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THE BRIDGE WATER TREATISES 

ON THE 

POWER, WISDOM, AND GOODNESS OF GOD, AS MANIFESTED 
IN THE CREATION. 

TREATISE II. 

ON THE ADAPTATION OF EXTERNAL NATURE TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 

BY J. KIDD, M. D. 



THOU MADEST HIM TO HAVE DOMINION OVER THE WORKS OF THY HANDS 
THOU HAST PUT ALL THINGS UNDER HIS FEET. 

PSALM VIII. I 



ON THE 



ADAPTATION OF EXTERNAL NATURE 



TO THE 



PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN, 



PRINCIPALLY 



WITH REFERENCE TO THE SUPPLY OF HIS WANTS, AND THE EXERCISE 
OF HIS INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 




A NEW EDITION. 



PHILADELPHIA: 
CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD. 

1836 



sep. 28 i^or 



f 

TO 

HIS GRACE 
THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. 

MY LORD, 

Having been appointed to write the following Treatise by the 
late President of the Royal Society, in consequence of your Grace's 
recommendation, it was natural that I should be desirous of publicly 
acknowledging the high honour thus conferred upon me. 

I therefore request you to accept my respectful thanks for per- 
mitting me to inscribe this Treatise with your Grace's name : as- 
suring you that, however inadequately I may have been found to 
answer your expectation in the execution, I have not applied my- 
self to the task committed to me, without the exertion of much 
thought, and the strongest desire of so executing it, as to justify 
your Grace's favourable opinion. 

I have the honour to be, 
My Lord, 

with the greatest respect, 
Your Grace's most obliged 

and obedient Servant, 

J. KlDD. 

Oxford, March 15, 1833. 



1* 



PREFACE. 



The occasion which gave rise to this and the accompanying Treatises 
is explained in the following notice: but the Author of the present Trea- 
tise thinks it right to add, that, although encouraged by the honour of 
having been recommended by His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury,' 
he should have shrunk from his present attempt, had he considered that 
any exact elucidation of the details of science was required in the exe- 
cution of it. 

As, however, the intention of Lord Bridgewater, and the very extent 
and diversified nature of the subject, seemed to him almost necessarily 
to exclude any great exactness of elucidation, and to require a popular 
rather than a scientific exposition of facts ; and as the whole tenour of 
his pursuits during the last thirty years of his life accorded with the 
character of the proposed subject; he the more readily undertook a task, 
to the execution of which he could not but look forward with much 
pleasure. And if he should in any instance stimulate the reader to ex- 
amine the question with any portion of the interest and satisfaction with 
which he has himself examined it, he is confident that he shall not have 
laboured in vain. 

It will be for others to determine whether a judicious selection and a 
sufficiently natural arrangement of the materials of the following Trea- 
tise have been adopted : but to those, who may think that many of the 
subjects have been treated too cursorily, the Author begs leave to point 
out the extensive range afforded by so wide a field of inquiry ; and the 
consequent necessity of compression in each particular ; the subject of 
this Treatise being in fact an epitome of the subjects of almost all the 
others. He also considers it right to state, that it is the immediate ob- 
ject of the Treatise itself to unfold a train of facts, not to maintain an 
argument; to give a general view of the adaptation of the external world 
to the physical condition of man, not to attempt formally to convince the 
reader that this adaptation is a proof either of the existence and omni- 
potence of the Deity, or of his beneficence and wisdom; though un- 
doubtedly it is hoped by the writer, as it was intended by the munificent 
individual who originally proposed the general subject of this and the 



Vlli PREFACE. 

accompanying Treatises, that such a conviction, if not already existing, 
may be produced by its perusal. Without questioning, therefore, on the 
present occasion, the intellectual powers or the moral motives of those 
who profess themselves sceptics with respect to either natural or re- 
vealed religion, the Author addresses himself exclusively to those who 
are believers in both the one and the other. With respect indeed to a 
disbelief in the basis of natural religion, he must ever feel assured, as 
in another place he has expressed himself, that, however easy it may be 
to account for the external profession of a disbelief in God, the supposi- 
tion of the existence of intellectual atheism involves an intellectual ab- 
surdity. With respect to the truth of Revelation, although the subject 
of this Treatise is not directly connected with that question, he would 
still wish to consider himself as addressing those only who with himself 
believe that the objects which surround us in our present state of exist- 
ence, and which are so obviously intended to advance the general powers 
and faculties of Man, without advancing the powers and faculties of any 
other animal, are purposely destined to produce an ulterior and higher 
effect; the nature of which effect is to be learnt from the doctrines of 
Revelation alone. And he has thought it right to say thus much on the 
general subject of religion, not merely for the purpose of recording his 
own sentiments; but that, in professing to address those only who be- 
lieve in revealed as well as in natural religion, if on any occasion he 
should assume the truth of Revelation, he may not be with justice ac- 
cused of taking that for granted, of which the reader doubts. 



NOTICE. 



The series of Treatises, of which the present is one, is published under the 
following- circumstances : 

The Right Honourable and Reverend Francis Henry, Earl of Bridge- 
water, died in the month of February, 1829 ; and by his last Will and Testa- 
ment, bearing- date the 25th of February, 1825, he directed certain Trustees 
therein named to invest in the public funds the sum of Eight thousand pounds 
sterling-; this sum, with the accruing dividends thereon, to be held at the dis- 
posal of the President, for the time being, of the Royal Society of London, to 
be paid to the person or persons nominated by him. The Testator further di- 
rected, that the person or persons selected by the said President should be ap- 
pointed to write, print, and publish one thousand copies of a work On the Pow- 
er, Wisdom, and Goodness of God, as manifested in the Creation illustrating such 
work by all reasonable arguments, as for instance the variety and formation of God's 
creatures in the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms ; the effect of digestion, 
and thereby of conversion ,• the construction of the hand of man, and an infinite va- 
riety of other arguments as also by discoveries ancient and modern, in arts, sciences, 
and the whole extent of literature. He desired, moreover, that the profits arising 
from the sale of the works so published should be paid to the authors of the 
works. 

The late President of the Royal Society, Davies Gilbert, Esq. requested the 
assistance of his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury and of the Bishop of 
London, in determining upon the best mode of carrying into effect the inten- 
tions of the Testator. Acting with their advice, and with the concurrence of a 
nobleman immediately connected with the deceased, Mr. Davies Gilbert ap- 
pointed the following eight gentlemen to write separate Treatises on the differ- 
ent branches of the subject, as here stated : 

THE REV. THOMAS CHALMERS, D. D. 

PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH. 

ON THE ADAPTATION OF EXTERNAL NATURE TO THE MORAL AND INTELLECTUAL 
CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



JOHN KIDD, M. D. F. R. S. 

REGIUS PROFESSOR OF MEDICINE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 
ON THE ADAPTATION OF EXTERNAL NATURE TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



Vlll 



NOTICE. 



THE REV. WILLIAM WHEWELL, M. A. F. R. S. 

FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 
ON ASTRONOMY AND GENERAL PHYSICS. 

SIR CHARLES BELL, K. H. F. R. S. 

THE HAND : ITS MECHANISM AND VITAL ENDOWMENTS AS EVINCING DESIGN. 

PETER MARK ROGET, M. D. 

FELLOW OF AND SECRETARY TO THE ROYAL SOCIETY. 
ON ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. 

THE REV. WILLIAM BUCKLAND, D. D. F. R. S. 

CANON OF CHRIST CHURCH, AND PROFESSOR OF GEOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 
ON GEOLOGY AND MINERALOGY. 

THE REV. WILLIAM KIRBY, M. A. F. R. S. 

ON THE HISTORY, HABITS, AND INSTINCTS OF ANIMALS. 

WILLIAM PROUT, M. D. F. R. S. 

ON CHEMISTRY, METEOROLOGY, AND THE FUNCTION OF DIGESTION. 

His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, President of the Royal Society, 
having desired that no unnecessary delay should take place in the publication 
of the above-mentioned treatises, they will appear at short intervals, as they 
are ready for publication* 




CONTENTS. 



CHAP. I. Introduction - - * - - - 13 

Sect. I. The Physical Condition of Man - - - 13 

II. The general Constitution of external Nature, - 14 

CHAP. II. The Physical Character of Man - - - 17 
Sect. I. The Physical Character of Man, compared with that of other 

animals -------17 

II. Differences in the Form of the Infant and of the Adult; par- 
ticularly with reference to the Spine - - - 18 

III. Physical Superiority of Man, on what Principle to be esti- 

mated -------21 

IV. Early and gradual Developement of the intellectual Facul- 

ties of Man - - - - 23 

CHAP. III. On the Powers of the human Hand, considered as a 

corporeal Organ ------ -26 

CHAP. IV. On the Brain, considered as the Organ of the Intellec- 
tual Faculties - -- -- --32 

CHAP. V. The Nervous System of Animals in general - - 35 

Sect. I. The Nervous System of the inferior Animals - - 35 

II. The Nervous System of Man - - - 37 

III. Indications of natural Talent and Disposition deducible from 

the Structure of the Brain - - - - 40 

IV. The general Doctrine of Physiognomy, as connected with 

the Form of the Body - - - - - 44 

V. The Developemont of the Human Brain, compared with that 

of other Animals - - - - 47 

VI. Cursory View of the Extent of Human Power over the 

Ohjects of the external World - - - 48 

CHAP. VI. Adaptation of the Atmosphere to the Wants of Man - 51 

Sect. I. The general Constitution of the Atmosphere - 51 

II. Light ------- 52 

III. Heat ------- 58 

IV. The general Uses of Water - - 63 
V. Baths ------- 66 

VI. The Fluidity of Water - - - - - 68 

VII. The natural Sources of W T ater - - - 71 
VIII. The Air of the Atmosphere, as connected with Respiration 72 



xii 



CONTENTS. 



IX. Effects of the Motion of the Air, as connected with Human 

Health, &c. 75 

X. Effects of the Motion of the Air, as connected with the 

Arts, &c. - - - - - 80 

CHAP. VII. Adaptation of Minerals to the Physical Condition of 

Man ------- 85 

Sect. I. The general Characters of Minerals - - - 85 

II. Application of Minerals to Architecture and Sculpture - 86 

III. Gems and precious Stones - - - - 92 

IV. The Distribution and relative Proportions of Sea and Land; 

and the geological Arrangement and physical Character 

of some of the superficial Strata of the Earth - - 95 

V. Beds of Gravel - - - - - 96 

VI. Metals - - - - - - - 101 

VII. Common Salt, &c. - 107 

CHAP. VIII. Adaptation of Vegetables to the Physical Condition 

of Man - - - - - - 108 

Sect. I. General Observations on the Vegetable Kingdom - - 108 

II. The Cocoa-nut Tree, including the Formation of Coral Reefs 109 

III. Vegetables as a Source of Food - - - - 115 

IV. Vegetables as applicable to Medicine - - - 119 
V. Vegetables as applicable to the Arts, &c. - - _ 122 

CHAP. IX. Adaptation of Animals to the Physical Condition of 

Man - - - - - - - 128 

Sect. I. General Observations on the Animal Kingdom - - 128 

II. Geographical Distribution of Animals - 130 

III. The Camel - - - - - 131 

IV. Domestication of Animals ----- 135 
V. Animals as a Source of Food - 138 

VI. Manufacture of Sal Ammoniac - 139 

VII. Animals as a Source of Clothing, &c. - - - 141 
CHAP. X. Adaptation of the external World to the Exercise of 

the Intellectual Faculties of Man - 142 
Sect. I. On the Rise and Progress of Human Knowledge - - 142 
II. Opinions of Lucretius on the constitution of Matter in gene- 
ral ; and on the Nature of Light, Heat, Water, and Air 148 

III. Opinions of the Ancients on the Organization and Classi- 

fication of Animals ----- 154 

IV. On those Animal Forms called Monsters, or Lusus Naturae 171 
CHAP. XI. Conclusion - - - _ _ 173 

Appendix - -- -- -- - 175 



ADAPTATION OF EXTERNAL NATURE 

TO THE 

PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCTION. 

Section I. 

The Physical Condition of Man, 

When Hamlet, in contemplating the grandeur of creation, breaks 
forth into that sublime apostrophe on man — " How noble in reason ! 
how infinite in faculties ! in form and moving, how express and ad- 
mirable ! in action, how like an angel ! in apprehension, how like a 
God ! the beauty of the world ! the paragon of animals !" — who does 
not feel elated by the description ? who does not feel conscious of its 
truth ? 

Nor is its truth the less admissible, because the poet, in concentrat- 
ing the powers of his imagination on the excellences of that work of 
creation which bears the stamp of the Creator's image, has omitted 
to present to our view the reverse of the impression, the frailty 
namely of our fallen nature : for although, on moral and religious 
considerations, each individual is bound habitually to take the one 
view in conjunction with the other ; in a simple philosophical con- 
templation of human nature we are not precluded by any reasonable 
barrier, from taking such a partial view of the subject as the occa- 
sion may suggest. 

In the present instance, indeed, I am strictly called upon to con- 
sider, not the moral, but the 'physical condition of man : and to ex- 
amine how far the state of external nature is adapted to that condi- 
tion ; whether we regard the provisions made for the supply of man's 
icants, either natural or acquired; or those which are made for the 

2 



14 



INTRODUCTION". 



exercise of his intellectual faculties. The following treatise naturally, 
therefore, divides itself into two parts : in the first of which it is in- 
tended to investigate and describe the physical condition of man ; in 
the second, the adaptation of external nature to that condition. 

But a wide field here opens to our view : for man cannot, under 
any circumstances, be considered as an insulated being; or uncon- 
nected with the rest of animated nature. He is indeed but one link 
in the great chain of animal creation ; and not only does the contem- 
plation of his condition lose half its interest, if separated from the 
contemplation of the condition of other animals ; but it cannot be 
satisfactorily investigated without that aid. And, again, animal life 
itself is but one among many modes of existence, by which the Crea- 
tor has manifested his omnipotence; and which it is necessary to 
contemplate in connexion with the general phenomena of nature, in 
order to show the superiority of that province, at the head of which 
human beings have been placed. 

In attempting however to form a just estimate of the physical con- 
dition of man, we must not regard him merely under the aspect of 
savage or uncivilized life, and consider this as his natural state : for 
it may be presumed that, at the present day, such a puerjle view of 
the question is not for a moment entertained by any one capable of 
philosophical reflection. In fact, in as many different states as man 
does actually exist, civilised or savage, so many are his natural states. 
If any indeed could be pre-eminently called his natural state, it would 
be that of civilization : for not only does experience show that his 
natural tendency is towards such a state ; but we know, from the 
highest authority, that the existence of man is connected with a 
moral end ; (with more indeed than a moral end ; since morals have 
immediately a relation to this life only, while man is destined for a 
future ;) and a moral end is hardly attainable in an uncivilized state 
of society. 



Section II. 
The general Constitution of external nature. 

The more familiar objects of that external world by which man 
is surrounded are usually distributed into three kingdoms, as they are 
called ; the animal, vegetable, and mineral: but for the purpose of this 
treatise it will be necessary to take into our account the phenomena 
of the atmosphere also. 

The atmosphere principally consists of the air which we respire ; 
(a form of matter so subtle, in all its states, as to be invisible ;) to- 
gether with a variable proportion of water, of which a part is always 
retained in close combination with the air; and, like the air itself, 
exists always in an invisible state. There are also diffused through 



INTRODUCTION'. 



15 



the atmosphere those still more subtle agents, heat and electricity. 
But all these, though of so subtle a substance, are in their occasional 
effects the most powerful agents of nature. For, omitting the con- 
sideration of their silent but wonderful operation, as exhibited in the 
process of vegetation, and in many other processes less open to ob- 
servation, let us consider the occasional effects of air in the violence 
of a tornado; or of water, in the inundation of a rapid river: or let 
us contemplate the effect of either an indefinite diminution or increase 
of heat; on the one hand, the natural process of animal decompo- 
sition arrested by its abstraction, so that the imbedded mammoth 
remains at this moment in the same state that it was four thousand 
years ago ; and in which, under the same circumstances, it undoubt- 
edly would be, four thousand or four million years hence ; on the 
other hand, the possibility of the dissipation of all the constituent 
parts of matter, or their fixation in the state of glass, resulting from 
the agency of indefinitely increased heat: or, lastly, let us consider 
the tremendous effects of condensed electricity in the form of light- 
ning : — and we shall necessarily acknowledge that though in their 
usual state the constituents of the atmosphere are among the most 
tranquil agents of nature, yet, when their power is concentrated, 
they are the most awfully energetic. 

In the mineral kingdom the most characteristic property of the se- 
veral species appears to be a disposition to a pecular mode of mutual 
attraction among the particles composing the individuals belonging 
to them ; from which attraction, when exerted under the most favour- 
able circumstances, result that symmetry and regularity of form, to 
which the term crystal has been applied. The transparency and 
degree of hardness of crystals are various, and depend much upon 
external circumstances. The form is fundamentally the same for 
each species, though capable of being modified according to known 
laws ; and the substance is chemically the same throughout its whole 
extent. Every atom of a crystallized mass of gypsum consists of 
water, lime, and sulphuric acid, united in the same proportions as are 
found to exist in the whole mass, or in any given part of it. 

The individuals of the vegetable kingdom differ very remarkably 
from those of the mineral, both in form and substance. In their form 
we see nothing like the mathematical precision of crystallization ; 
and in their substance they differ widely, according to the part of 
the vegetable which is examined: so that, independently of previous 
knowledge of the species, we could hardly discover any natural re- 
lation between the several constituent parts of the individual. What 
is there in the insulated leaf of a rose or of a peach tree, that would 
lead us to expect the fruit of the one or the flower of the other ? But 
the most remarkable line of distinction between vegetables and the 
individuals of the preceding kingdom consists in their mode of in- 
crease and reproduction. Minerals can only increase, as such, by 
the apposition of particles specifically similar to themselves ; and 



18 



INTRODUCTION. 



can only be originally produced by the immediate combination of 
their constituent elements. But vegetables have an apparatus within 
them, by means of which they can assimilate the heterogeneous 
particles of the surrounding soil to their own nature ; and they have 
also the power of producing individuals specifically the same as 
themselves : in common language, they are capable of contributing 
to their own growth, and to the continuation of their species. And 
as they produce these effects by means of internal organs adapted 
to the purpose, they are hence denominated organized bodies. 

The individuals of the animal kingdom very closely resemble those 
of the vegetable in the two properties just described. The respective 
organs differ, as we might expect, in their form and position ; but in 
their functions or mode of action there is a strong analogy, and even 
similarity, throughout. But animals differ from vegetables more re- 
markably than these do from every unorganized form of matter, in 
being endued with sensation and volition ; properties which extend 
the sphere of their relations to such a degree, as to raise them im- 
measurable above all other forms of matter in the scale of existence. 

In distributing the individuals of the material world among these 
four kingdoms of nature, there occasionally prevails considerable 
obscurity, not only with respect to the true place which an individual 
ought to occupy in the scale of a particular kingdom ; but even with 
respect to the question, under which of the four kingdoms it ought 
to be arranged ; this obscurity arising of course from the points of 
resemblance apparently balancing, or more than balancing, the 
points of difference. Let us for instance, in the atmospherical king- 
dom, take a fragment of a perfectly transparent crystal of pure ice ; 
and, under ordinary circumstances, it would be difficult, either by 
the sight or the touch, to distinguish it from a fragment of transpa- 
rent quartz, or rock crystal : indeed the transfer of the original term 
xpyoVaXXos, from the one to the other, shows the close resemblance of 
the two. Some minerals again so nearly resemble vegetables in 
form, as to have given rise to specific terms of appellation, derived 
from the vegetable kingdom ; as flosferri, mineral agaric, &c. And, 
lastly, many of the animals called sea-anemones so far resemble the 
flower called by the same name, that their real character is at first 
very doubtful to those who are unacquainted with the animals of that 
genus. But, omitting these rare and equivocal instances, and avoid- 
ing the confinement of abstract definitions, we may safely affirm that, 
of all the kingdoms of nature, the individuals of the animal kingdom 
have the most extensive and important relations to the surrounding 
universe. And I need not here insist on the obvious inference, that if 
among the kingdoms of nature animals hold the first rank, in conse- 
quence of the importance of these relations, among animals them- 
selves the first rank must be assigned to man. 



17 



CHAPTER II. 

THE PHYSICAL CHARACTER OF MAN". 

Section I. 

The Physical Character of Man, compared with that of other 
Animals. 

Although, when viewed in the aggregate of his faculties, moral 
as well as physical, man confessedly holds the first rank among ani- 
mals ; yet, if we exclude from our consideration those intellectual 
powers and moral qualities by which he is essentially characterised, 
and confine our view to his mere animal nature, we find that he 
scarcely differs in any important point from any of the species of 
the higher classes. In each there is the same necessity for air, and 
sleep, and food; and the nature of the food and the mode of its 
digestion are not materially different : the nutrient fluid extracted by 
the process of digestion is converted into blood of the same cha- 
racter, and distributed in the same manner through the system ; the 
constituent parts of the body and their mode of growth are almost 
precisely the same ; for the bone, muscle, tendon, skin, hair, and 
brain of the horse, or deer, or tiger, or bear, scarcely differ in their 
physical or chemical characters from the correspondent parts in 
man: similar secretions, as the bile, tears, and saliva, are separated 
by similarly constructed organs ; and similar parts become similarly 
diseased : the special senses of sight, hearing, taste, and smell, are 
exercised through the medium of similar organs, simply modified 
according to the particular wants of individual species : the sources 
of mere bodily pain or pleasure are generally the same : the instinc- 
tive affections, passions, and propensities are the same, and are 
manifested in the same way ; the angry look of a dog, for instance, 
bespeaking the internal feeling as strongly as that of the man; and 
the playful and rapid movements of the young puppy resembling 
the careless hilarity of childhood, no less than the stayed motions 
and wary eye of the aged hound resemble the sedateness of the 
aged human being. 

Probably, however, it would be nearer the truth, were we to say 
that man, if divested of his intellectual powers, and endued merely 
with his animal nature, would be inferior to the brutes ; for, pos- 
sessing, as is the case, very few of the prospective or preservative 
instincts, he would be unable, without the aid of his intellectual 
powers, to provide for some of his most imperious wants. 

But we may go even further than this. Let us suppose, for in- 
stance, a communitv of human individuals, who, though not gifted 

2* 



18 



PHYSICAL CHARACTER OF MAW. 



with a sufficient degree of intellectual powers to instruct others, or 
improve themselves, were yet endued with them to a degree suf- 
ficient to render them, if the opportunity offered, docile to a certain 
extent, and capable of executing many of the common offices of 
life ; (and what town or village does not present to our observation 
individual instances of such unhappy shadows of human nature?) 
how could a community like this exist; in which, though all, by the 
terms of the supposition, were capable of learning something, yet none 
would be capable of teaching anything 1 of what use under these 
circumstances would be that " instrument of instruments" the hu- 
man hand, where there was no presiding mind to direct its move- 
ments ? And, with respect to that wonderful auxiliary of the hu- 
man powers, how incorrect is the reflection of those who have 
asserted that men are superior to brutes, only because they possess 
this instrument : and how truly philosophical is the opposite reflec- 
tion, that man is not superior to other animals because he possesses 
this instrument; but he is provided with such an instrument pre- 
cisely because he is already superior to all other animals. And the 
converse is equally true, that, with intellectual powers of even a 
higher order than those which they already possess, human beings 
could not live in a state of society, could hardly indeed exist in any 
state, unless furnished with such an instrument as the hand. 



Section" II. 

Differences in the Form of the Infant and of the Adult ; particularly 
with reference to the Spine. 

And yet, notwithstanding the confessed superiority of man, if we 
view him only in the infancy of his individual existence, what is 
there that is calculated to give an earnest of his future vigour and 
activity, either with respect to bodily or mental powers ; and what 
are all the advantages of the external world to a creature so 
utterly helpless, so utterly incapable of using or even passively en- 
joying them X In fact, with the exception of a very few instinctive 
rather than voluntary acts, such as that of deriving its nutriment 
from the mother's breast, the infant is, from the feebleness of its 
powers, incapable of efficient exertion ; and depends entirely on the 
assistance of those around it. 

The phy sical differences, observable in comparing the structure 
of the infant with that of the adult, which enable the one to execute 
many operations of which the other is incapable, exist to a certain 
extent in every part of the body ; but are perhaps more remarkable 
in the spine than in any other part : and the spine therefore may be 
selected as a fit term of comparison. 

In considering the office of the adult spine, with a view to the 



PHYSICAL CHARACTER OF MAN. 19 

present subject, we find that great strength, combined with great 
flexibility, is particularly requisite. With reference to strength, the 
pyramidal form of this natural column is obviously conducive to the 
purpose intended ; and the arrangement of the solid matter, of 
which it is composed, is such as to contribute to the same effect ; 
for that solid matter, instead of being collected into one compact 
mass, is diffused in such a manner as to resemble the structure of 
sponge ; and it is well known, with reference to the strength of 
artificial columns, that, the same quantity of matter being given for 
each, and their height being the same, those columns which are hollow 
are stronger than those which are solid. Again, the whole column 
is made up of numerous parts, called vertebrae, which are so firmly 
bound together as to lessen the chance of being broken in the act 
of bending ; and these vertebrae being applied to each other, 
throughout, by broad horizontal surfaces, are thus best calculated to 
support the perpendicular pressure of the superincumbent parts. 
The effect of general strength is further accomplished by the mutual 
locking in of the projecting portions, or processes, of the several 
vertebrae ; and the same effect is accomplished to an additional ex- 
tent among those vertebrae which belong to the thorax or chest, by 
the mode of articulation between them and the ribs ; each rib being 
united, not entirely to a single vertebra, but partially to two con- 
tiguous vertebrae, near their line of junction. 

The flexibility of the spine is secured to the utmost requisite ex- 
tent, by the great number of articulations or joints which it pos- 
sesses, amounting to more than twenty ; as well as by the elasticity 
of the substance constituting those joints: and the projecting parts 
or processes of the several vertebrae, which serve for the insertion 
of the muscles and tendons which are to move the whole, are dif- 
ferently disposed in the neck, the back, and the loins ; so as to be 
accommodated to the degree and kind of motion required in each : 
thus the vertebrae of the neck admit of a lateral motion to a 
greater extent than those of the back ; and the vertebrae of the back 
admit of flexion and extension to a greater degree than those of the 
neck ; while the vertebrae of the loins, being intended for support 
rather than flexibility, have their processes so distributed, as to con- 
tribute principally to the former of those effects. 

Thus far we have considered the conditions of the adult spine, 
and have seen that they are calculated most admirably both for 
flexibility and for strength. Let us now examine the same column 
in the age of early infancy ; and here we shall see, that, although at 
that period the parts, in which the conditions of strength and flexi- 
bility are so remarkably developed in the adult state, are not yet 
formed, or not completed; those parts which are essential to the 
security of the life of the individual are nearly in as perfect a state 
as at the age of manhood : so that in the midst of the most decided 
marks of weakness and imperfection in the rest of the column, 
there is an extraordinary instance of strength and perfect growth, 



20 



PHYSICAL CHARACTER OF MAX. 



in prr cisely that part of it which could not have been left in an in- 
complete state, without manifest, immediate, and constant danger to 
the individual. In other words, the bodies and processes of the 
several vertebra? on which the strength and flexibility of the spine 
depend, are in early infancy still in a soft or cartilaginous state ; 
while the annular portions, which with their intervening ligaments 
constitute the spinal canal, are completely ossified ; so as to give as 
great a degree of security to the spinal marrow as at the age of 
manhood. 

Nor need we spend much time in ascertaining the final cause of 
this remarkable difference. Is it not indeed obvious on a moment's 
reflection, that the very helplessness and imperfect state of the 
physical powers in infancy, so ill understood and appreciated, 
though so beautifully described by Lucretius, contribute to the fuller 
developement of the moral character, not only of the individual, 
but of his parents also, and of all his immediate connexions. The 
mutual affection, for instance, that takes place and is cemented be- 
tween the infant and its mother, during the lengthened period in 
which the latter nurses her offspring; the stimulus, which is given to 
the exertions of the other parent in supplying the increasing wants 
of those who depend on him for support; and the general feeling 
and expression of good-will and attachment, which bind together 
the numerous individuals of the same family; all coincide to in- 
crease the sum of human happiness and virtue. Whereas, were the 
infant born with all its powers complete, and capable of exerting 
those powers as soon as born, independently of the assistance of 
parent, or sister, or brother; what would then remain of those en- 
dearing relations, but the empty name? 

How incorrect then is the conclusion of the poet in that other- 
wise most beautiful passage of his poem ! " The new-born babe, 
which like the shipwrecked mariner, lies prostrate on the ground, 
naked and destitute of every assistance required for the support of 
life, pierces the surrounding air with its incessant cries ; as if foresee- 
ing the long train of miseries which it must hereafter encounter. 
And yet the tender foal and lamb not only begin to crop the grass, 
but play about the mother almost as soon as born. The nurse's 
soothing lullaby is not wanted by them, nor the excitement of the 
rattle or of any other toy: nor do they require a change of dress 
accommodated to the changing temperature of the surrrounding 
atmosphere; nor arms for their defence, nor walled cities for their 
protection; kind nature supplying to them in bountiful profusion 
whatever is necessaiy to satisfy their wants."* As if it might not 
have been reasonably and safely concluded, that that same power, 
(call it " nature," or by any other name,) which provided so amply 

* Turn porro Puer, ut srevis projectus ab undis 
Navita, nudus humi jacet, in fans, indig-us omni 
Vitali auxilio, cum primum in luminis oias 
Nixibus ex alvo matris natura profudit $ 



PHYSICAL CHARACTER OF MAN. 



21 



for the early wants of the lower species of animals, had some good 
and special reason for leaving the human infant in a temporary state 
of helpless weakness. 

Section III. 

Physical Superiority of Man, on what Principle to be estimated. 

From this helplessness in his early years, and from the occasional 
inferiority of some of his physical organs to the corresponding organs 
of brutes, it has sometimes been absurdly asked what claim man has, 
from his physical structure or powers, to be placed first in the scale 
of animal beings. His strength, what is it to that of the elephant or 
of the horse, or even of some species of reptiles or fish ? his powers 
of sight and motion, what are they to those of the bird ? his sense of 
odours, to that of the dog? his touch, to that of the spider? 

And yet, even if we entirely omit the consideration of the soul, 
that immaterial and immortal principle which is for a time united to 
his body, and view him only in his merely animal character, man is 
still the most excellent of animals. How confined are the powers 
of other animals, considered generally, when compared with those 
of the human species. The comb of the bee indeed is in its con- 
struction wonderful ; and so is even the nest of the bird, or the habi- 
tation of the beaver: but these animals could never be taught to fa- 
bricate, or to use, the simplest of those machines or instruments, 
which man, even in a very partially civilized state, is in the daily 
habit of making and employing: much less could they be taught to 
perform those complicated operations which result from their em- 
ployment. , 

But, it may perhaps be said, it is the mind, the intellectual power 
of man, which enables him to produce the effects in question. His 
mind indeed enables him to conceive the plan of those operations 
which he executes, but it does no more : and were his form deficient 
by one of the smallest of its present members, he would be rendered 
nearly helpless. Take from his hand but one of the fingers, and he 
could do nothing. It is the human hand which gives the power of 
execution to the human mind ; and it is the relative position of one 
of the fingers to the other four, which principally stamps the cha- 

Vagituque locum lugubri complet, ut sequum 'st, 

Cui tantum in vita restet transire malorum. 

At varise crescunt Pecudes, Armenta, Ferseque ; 

Nec crepitacula eis opu' sunt, nec cuiquam adhibenda 'st 

Almae nutricis blanda atque infracta loquela : 

Nec varias quserunt Vesteis pro tempore Coeli. 

Denique non Armis opus est, non Moenibus altis, 

Queis sua tutentur, quando omnibus omnia large 

Tellus ipsa parit, naturaque dxdala rerum. 

Lib. V. 223-235. 



22 



PHYSICAL CHARACTER OF MAN. 



racter of the hand ; for the thumb, by its capability of being brought 
into opposition with each of the other fingers, enables the hand to 
adapt itself to every shape; and gives it that complete dominion 
which it possesses over the various forms of matter.* 

Give all the intelligence therefore that you please to the horse, or 
to the elephant, yet with hoofs instead of hands it is physically impos- 
sible that they could construct the simplest instrument : nor could 
the organs even of the beaver, were that animal gifted with the 
highest intellectual powers, enable it to effect much more than it is 
capable of effecting at present. 

Man then is in every sense superior, in organization as well as 
in intellectual powers, to all other animals ; and the degree of resem- 
blance to him, as thus superior, is the main principle of classification 
adopted at the present day : and upon the whole it will be found 
that, in proportion as the powers and relations of animals are exten- 
sive, their structure resembles that of man. And, with respect to 
the degrees of this resemblance, it may be observed that occasion- 
ally it is so strong, as to constitute all but identity of form, as in 
some quadrumanous animals, or apes; while in others it is so faint, 
as to render it questionable whether we are viewing an animate 
or inanimate body, as in several varieties of sponge. It is evident 
that the stability of the principle of classification, now described, 
depends on the permanency of the specific form of animals : and it 
will be found that nature has guarded this point in so sacred a man- 
ner, that after the lapse of thousands of years, the identity of the 
species may be not only traced, but demonstrated, when nothing but 
the almost mouldering bones of the individual remain. But this sub- 
ject will be considered more at large hereafter. 

As then, in estimating the moral or intellectual characters of par- 
ticular men, we are not influenced by the consideration of insulated 
defects or excellences, but of the aggregate powers and qualities of 
the individual ; so, in comparing other animals with man, we ought 
not to affirm that they approach nearer to the standard of his per- 
fection in proportion as they approach nearer to him in the structure 
of this or that part, or in the developement of particular powers or 
qualities ; but in proportion to that approximation which results from 
the balance of their structure and powers considered collectively. 
And on this principle, however nearly a few of them may resemble 
him, they never can approach even the confines of an equality of 
nature; whatever some speculative individuals have presumptuously 
supposed, or others in their simplicity have feared. Thus the re- 
semblance to the human form, as well internally as externally, is so 
remarkable in particular species of the ape, that while some philoso- 
phers (who however proceeded without a knowledge, or a due con- 

• The term poltroon, if not of fancied etymology, ( pollice iruncatus,) verifies 
this s atement ; the Roman soldier who had been deprived of his thumb, being 
deemei unfit for service. 



PHYSICAL CHARACTER OF MAN. 



23 



sideration of the true principles of the science concerned in their rea- 
sonings) have maintained that the ape and man are but varieties of 
the same species, or at most but different species of the same genus ; 
others, with an unnecessary anxiety, have laboured to vindicate the 
supposed insult thus offered to the dignity of human nature, by search- 
ing for some fixed and invariable difference in the structure of the 
orresponding parts of each. 
But the question is puerile : for let us even suppose that the whole 
and every part of the structure of the ape were the same as that of man ; 
let every bone, and every muscle, and every fibre of the one corres- 
pond exactly with those of the other, not only in form and situation, 
but also in size and proportion ; let the brain itself, that tangible instru- 
ment of the intellectual powers, be in structure the counterpart of the 
human; yet, unless in its functions it resembled that of man, in other 
words, unless there were associated with it his intellectual peculiari- 
ties and the moral and religious sense, to what dreaded conclusion 
would the closest resemblances lead? However near the approxi- 
mation in their form, in their nature, there must ever be an immea- 
surable distance between the two. The ape, compared with man, 
may indeed be among other animals " proximus huic ;" still however 
it must be added, " longo sed proximus intervallo." 



Section IV. 

Early and gradual Developement of the inellectual Faculties of Man. 

The helplessness of infancy then is but temporary : and a new 
scene soon opens to the contemplation of those who have sufficient 

; opportunities of watching the developement of the human character : 
for, long as is the period, compared with the natural term of his own 
life, and longer still, compared with the corresponding period in the 

; life.of other animals, before man attains the full stature of his mind as 
well as of his body; he at a very early season begins to manifest the 
superiority of his intellectual nature : he very soon begins to collect 

I those materials for future use, which, though he will never hereafter 
be able to call to mind the moment or the circumstances of their 
accession, he will use as effectually as if he had originally acquired 
them by industrious and direct attention. 

It does not fall within the intention of this treatise to attempt to as- 
certain the period when the first dawn of intelligence enlightens the 
countenance of the infant; but, undoubtedly, among its earliest 
beams are those expressive smiles, which, although they are occa- 
sioned by the aspect of the mother, and are perhaps only connected 
with the expectation of an animal pleasure, namely the simple en- 
joyment of nourishment, yet are soon elicited by other individuals 



24 



PHYSICAL CHARACTER OF MAN. 



also, who may understand how to win the attention, and amuse the 
faculties of the infant mind. 

It seems as if there were implanted in the j^oungof all animals, of 
the higher orders, an instinctive propensity to those actions which 
are naturally determined by their specific form when fully devel- 
oped ; in order perhaps, among other purposes, to give occasion for 
that exercise of the limbs which is necessary to the health of the in- 
dividual. Hence the young ram couches his head, and tilts his ad- 
versary, long before his horns have appeared ; and the young phea- 
sant assails his antagonist with his projected legs, long before his 
spurs have begun to bud. And, following this analogy, may we not 
reasonably suppose that the sports of childhood have a natural ten- 
dency to prefigure the occupations of manhood ; and that by the 
extension of the same principle, independently of the impulse given 
by systematic education, or spontaneous imitation of their parents 
and others, there are instinctive differences in the amusements of 
children of different temperaments, connected with their future des- 
tinations in life 1 Thus while the boy is engaged in the mimicry of 
military parade or equestrian exercises, the girl devotes her time to 
more feminine occupations, and busies herself in acting the various 
duties which her nursery or household will hereafter require. The 
recorded attempt to conceal x\chilles in female attire, whether found- 
ed in fact, or, as is probable, merely a fictitious anecdote, will serve 
to illustrate the present point; inasmuch as the use of the means, 
said to have been employed by Ulysses to detect the hero, was evi- 
dently suggested by the principle just now advanced. 

At this early period of life then, the judgment being not sufficiently 
matured for deeper observation, the mind is satisfied with a view of 
the form and surface of objects presented to it ; with their anatomy, 
as it were, rather than with their physiology : but, in the mean time, 
it is thus acquainting itself undistractedly with those sensible quali- 
ties with which it must necessarily be familiar before it can proceed 
to reason on causes and relations. And although it may appear at 
first view that a very disproportionately long period of our life is 
devoted to the mere exercise of the senses, it is yet highly probable 
that important mental operations may be simultaneously going on, 
though we are at the time unconscious of them : for something ana- 
logous is observable throughout the whole course of our existence. 
How few there are, for instance, who, at any period of life, can call 
to mind a tenth part of what they have even recently heard or ob- 
served. And if this may be correctly affirmed of the adult age of 
life, and of those individuals whose original powers of mind are 
great, how much more strongly will it apply to those whose original 
powers of mind are not above the common standard, or not yet ma- 
tured by age. So that there can be very little doubt that the general 
principles and rules, which regulate the reasoning and conduct of 
men on ordinary occasions, have been originally deduced by each 
individual from much of what has been long forgotten. 



PHYSICAL CHARACTER OF MAN. 



25 



It has been asserted by persons,* whose intellectual powers were 
of the highest order, and whose industry was as remarkable as their 
abilities, that more than six or eight hours in each day could not be 
employed effectively by the generality of young men for the purpose 
of mental improvement. If this however be the case, and as a gene- 
ral position it probably is not very far from the truth, in vain does the 
ambitious student rob nature of that sleep which Providence has made 
necessary for the renovation of the exhausted powers of our mind, 
as well as of our body ; and in vain also does he attempt to combine 
simultaneously the efforts of mental attention with bodily exercise, 
or to pursue his severer studies during the hour of meals : in both 
which cases, they, who adopt the custom, not only err in employing 
too continuous an application of the powers of the mind ; but in im- 
peding to a certain and often very inconvenient degree the process 
of natural respiration ; and consequently, of other functions of the 
body, particularly of digestion. How main a point ought it to be 
therefore with those who superintend the education of young persons, 
to avoid the application of too great a strain on the natural spring of 
the intellectual powers. 

It is questionable whether at any period of life the correspondence 
between the external world and the sensitive and intellectual facul- 
ties of man, is so rapid, so vivid, and so effectual, as during that 
space which is intermediate to infancy and adolescence : and this 
fact, if it be so, may be explained by that principle of our nature, on 
which depends the love of novelty ; namely, that susceptibility of 
the nerves which makes them capable of being stimulated more vehe- 
mently by new, than by accustomed impressions : for certainly this 
principle is likely to be more exercised in proportion as we are nearer 
the period of infancy ; since every impression is then either abso- 
lutely new, or has not yet rendered the nerves dull by too frequent a 
repetition of its application. Another happy instance of the harmony 
that exists between the nature of man and the external world, is the 
readiness and confidence with which at this early period of life the 
impressions of sense are received. Where all is new, and therefore 
equally matter of wonder, there is yet no room for doubt. Nature 
teaches the mind to receive everything without distrust, and to rely 
implicitly on those inlets to knowledge, the impressions of sense, which 
are destined to be its only guides in the first years of life. Scepticism 
is not the tendency of childhood : and perhaps it is with reference to 
the analogy between the eye of faith and the eye of sense at this 
early period of life, that our Saviour pronounces a blessing upon 
those who receive the evidences of our religion with the simplicity 
of little children. 

• Lord chief justice Hale; (see BoswelPs Life of Johnson, vol. ii. p.511.4to. 
London, 1791 ;) not to mention living authorities. 

3 



26 



CHAPTER III. 

On the Powers of the human Hand, considered as a corporeal Organ. 

At length however, having passed the preparatory discipline both 
of natural and of parental education, and having arrived at the ma- 
turity of his powers, man is fitted to exercise his empire over the ex- 
ternal world. 

But before we consider the character of the materials provided for 
the supply of his various wants, or for the exercise of his intellectual 
faculties, let us examine more closely than hitherto the condition of 
those corporeal organs, by the agency of which he is enabled to pro- 
duce the results intended. 

There can be no doubt that those organs are, if not exclusively, 
at least pre-eminently, the brain and the hand: of the latter of which, 
not only are the uses of the several parts and of the whole made 
practically manifest every moment of our lives ; but its antecedent ca- 
pabilities are so open to the investigating eye of reason, as to afford 
one of the readiest subjects of physical demonstration. And although, 
with respect to the brain, we not only have no satisfactory evidence, 
but cannot even form a probable conjecture, of the use or mode of 
action of any particular part; yet we cannot doubt that it is the in- 
strument by which our intellectual powers hold communion with ex- 
ternal nature. I shall dedicate therefore this and the following 
chapter to the consideration of the general history of these organs. 

It would be an invasion of the province of others to give an ana- 
tomical description of the several constituent parts of the human 
hand : but in saying that its adaptation to the various purposes to 
which it is applicable is so open to the investigating eye of reason, 
as to afford one of the readiest subjects of physical demonstration, a 
tacit reference was made to that remarkable part of the writings of 
Galen, in which he expatiates upon the capabilities of this wonderful 
instrument: and that that extraordinary writer could hardly have 
selected a better subject, for the exercise of his powers in intellec- 
tual analysis, will be readily granted on a perusal of the following 
passages ; provided they correctly represent the spirit of the original. 

In that portion of his works which bears this title, " On the" Use 
of the various Parts of the Body," after having defined what is to 
be understood by the term part, or member, as applied to an animal 
body, Galen proceeds in the following manner :* " But all these parts 
of the body were made for the use of the soul, that sentient and in- 
telligent principle which animates the body, and of which the body 
is merely the organ ; and on this account the component parts of 



• Lib. I. cap. 2. 



POWERS OF THE HUMAN HAND, &C. 



27 



animals differ according to the nature of this principle : for some ani- 
mals are bold and fierce ; others are timid and gentle : some are 
gregarious, and co-operate for their mutual sustenance and defence ; 
others are solitary, and avoid the society of their fellows : but all 
have a form or body accommodated to their natural dispositions and 
habits. Thus the lion has powerful fangs and claws; the hare has 
swiftness of foot, but in other points is defenceless. And the fitness 
of this arrangement is obvious : for those weapons with which the 
lion is furnished are as appropriate to his nature, as they would be 
useless to the timid hare ; whose safety, depending entirely on flight, 
requires that swiftness of foot for which she is so remarkable. But 
to man, the only animal that partakes of divine intelligence, the Cre- 
ator has given, in lieu of every other natural weapon or organ of de- 
fence, that instrument, the hand; an instrument applicable to every art 
and occasion, as well of peace as of war. Man therefore wants not 
a hoof, or horn, or any other natural weapon ; inasmuch as he is able 
with his hand to grasp a much more effective weapon, the sword or 
spear. Besides which, natural weapons can be employed only in 
close conflict ; while some of the weapons employed by man, as 
javelins or arrows, are even more effectual at a distance. And, again, 
though man may be inferior to the lion in swiftness, yet by his dex- 
terity and skill he breaks in to his use a still swifter animal, the horse ; 
mounted on whose back he can escape from or pursue the lion, or 
attack him at every advantage. He is enabled moreover by means 
of this instrument to clothe himself with armour of various kinds, or 
to entrench himself within camps or fenced cities. Whereas were 
his hands encumbered with any natural armour, he would be unable 
to employ them for the fabrication of those instruments and means, 
which give him such a decided advantage over all the other animals 
of creation. 

" Nor have we yet enumerated the most important of those pri- 
vileges which the hand imparts to man. With this he weaves the 
garment that protects him from the summer's heat, or winter's cold; 
with this he forms the various furniture of nets and snares, which 
give him dominion over the inhabitants as well of the water as of the 
air and earth; with his hand he constructs the lyre and lute, and the 
numerous instruments employed in the several arts of life ; with the 
hand he erects altars and shrines to the immortal gods ; and, lastly, 
by means of the same instrument he bequeaths to posterity, in writing, 
the intellectual treasures of his own divine imagination ; and hence 
we, who are living at this day, are enabled to hold converse with 
Plato and Aristotle, and all the venerable sages of antiquity." 

In reasoning on the utility of the hand, as characteristic of the hu- 
man species, Galen thus expresses himself:* "Man being naturally 
destitute of corporeal weapons, as also of any instinctive art, has re- 



* Lib. I. cap. 4. 



^8 



POWERS OF THE HUMAN HAND, 



ceived a compensation, first in the gift of that peculiar instrument the 
hand ; secondly in the gift of reason ; by the employment of which 
two gifts he arms and protects his body in every mode, and adorns 
his mind with the knowledge of every art. For since, had he been 
furnished with any natural weapon, he would have possessed the use of 
this alone on all occasions ; or had he been gifted with any instinctive 
art, he would never have attained to the exercise of other arts ; hence 
he was created destitute of those insulated and individual means and 
arts, which characterise other animals : inasmuch as it is manifestly 
preferable to have the power of making use of various means and 
various arts. Rightly, therefore, has Aristotle defined the hand to be 
the instrument antecedent to, or productive of, all other instruments : 
and rightly might we, in imitation of Aristotle, define reason, as op- 
posed to instinct, to be the art antecedent to, or productive of, all 
other arts. For as the hand, though itself no particular organ, is 
yet capable of being adapted to all other organs, and is consequently 
antecedent to them ; so reason, though itself no particular art, is yet 
capable of comprehending and applying all ; and may therefore be 
considered as an art antecedent to all others. Thus man alone, of 
all animals, possessing in his soul this general and original capacity, 
is justly endued in his body with this general and original instrument." 

" *Let us then scrutinize this member of our body; and inquire, 
not simply whether it be in itself useful for all the purposes of life, 
and adapted to an animal endued with the highest intelligence; but 
whether its entire structure be not such, that it could not be improved 
by any conceivable alteration. 

" In the first place, it possesses in an eminent degree a leading 
quality of an organ of grasp ; since it readily applies itself to, and 
securely holds, bodies of every form and size that are capable of be- 
ing moved by human strength. Nor need we inquire whether it be 
better for this purpose that it should be divided into several parts; 
or, that it should be altogether undivided : for is. it not apparent with- 
out further reasoning, that had it been undivided, it could have grasp- 
ed only just such a portion of every object presented to it, as was 
equal to itself ; but that, being divided into many parts, it can both 
easily grasp bodies much larger than itself; and can accurately 
search out, and lay hold of, the smallest particles of matter. For to 
the former it is capable of generally applying itself so, as to encom- 
pass them by the separation of the fingers ; while in laying hold of 
very minute objects, the entire hand is not employed, but only the tips 
of two of the fingers : because from the grasp of the whole hand 
minute objects would easily escape. 

" Thus then the hand is framed in the manner most convenient for 
laying a firm hold on objects both greater and less than itself. And 
in order to enable it to apply itself to objects of various shapes, it is 



* Lib. i. cap. 5. 



CONSIDERED AS A CORPOREAL ORGAN". 



29 



evidently most convenient that it should be divided into many parts, 
as it is : and it seems to be better constituted for this purpose than 
any similar instrument ; for it not only can apply itself to substances 
of a spherical form, so as to touch them with every part of itself; 
but it also can securely hold substances of a plane or of a concave 
surface ; and, consequently, it can hold substances of any form. 

" And, because many bodies are of too great a size to be held by 
one hand alone, nature has therefore made each hand an assistant to 
its fellow ; so that the two, when together laying hold of bodies of 
unusual bulk, on opposite sides, are fully equivalent to a single hand 
of the very largest dimensions : and, on this account, the hands are 
inclined towards, and in every point are made equal to, each other ; 
which is at least desirable, if not necessary, in instruments intended 
to have a combined action. 

" Take then any one of those unwieldly bodies, which a man can 
only lay hold of by means of both his hands, as a millstone or a raf- 
ter ; or take one of the smallest objects, as a millet-seed or a hair, or 
a minute thorn ; or, lastly, reflect on that vast multitude of objects of 
every possible size, intermediate to the greatest and the least of those 
above-mentioned ; and you will find the hands so exactly capable of 
grasping each particular one, as if they had been expressly made for 
grasping that alone. Thus the smallest things of all we take up with 
the tips of the fingers ; those which are a little larger we take up 
with the same fingers, but not with the tips of them ; substances still 
larger we take up with three fingers, and so on with four, or with all 
live fingers, or even with the whole hand : all which we could not 
do, were not the hand divided, and divided precisely as it is. For 
suppose the thumb were not placed as it is, in opposition to the other 
four fingers, but that all the five were ranged in the same line ; is it 
not evident that in this case their number would be useless 1 For in 
order to have a firm hold of anything, it is necessary either to grasp 
it all round, or at least to grasp it in two opposite points ; neither of 
which would have been possible, if all the five fingers had been 
placed in the same plane : but the end is now fully attainable, simply 
inconsequence of the position of the thumb ; which is so placed, and 
has exactly such a degree of motion, as, by a slight inclination, to be 
easily made to co-operate with any one of the four fingers. And no 
one can doubt that nature purposely gave to the hands a form adapt- 
ed to that mode of action, which they are observed to have;* while 
in the feet, where extent of surface is wanted for support, all the toes 
are arranged in the same plane. fBut, to return to a point which 
we were just now considering, it is not merely necessary in laying 
hold of minute objects to employ the extremities of the fingers op- 
posed to each other, but that those extremeties should be exactly of 
the character they are, namely soft, and round, and furnished with. 



* Lib. ii cap. 9. 



3* 



•j- Lib. i. cap. 6. 



30 



POWERS OF THE HUMAN HAND, 



nails : for if the tips of the fingers were of bone, and not of flesh, we 
could not then lay hold of such minute bodies as thorns or hairs ; or 
if they were of a softer and moister substance than flesh, neither then 
could such small bodies have been secured. For, in order that a body 
may be firmly held, it is necessary that it be in some degree infolded 
in the substance holding it ; which condition could not have been ful- 
filled by a hard or bony material ; and on the other hand, a material 
too soft would easily yield to substances of which it attempted to lay 
hold, and would continually let them escape : whereas the extremities 
of the fingers are just of that intermediate degree of consistence, 
which is calculated for their intended use. 

" * But, since tangible substances vary much in their degree of 
hardness, nature has adapted the structure of the extremities of the 
lingers to that circumstance : for they are not formed either entirely 
of flesh, or of the substance called nail; but of a most convenient com- 
bination of the two: thus those parts which are capable of being mu- 
tually brought in apposition, and which are employed in feeling for 
minute objects, are fleshy ; while the nails are placed externally, as a 
support to the former. For the fingers are capable of holding soft sub- 
stances, simply by the fleshy or soft part of their extremity ; but they 
could not hold hard substances without the assistance of nails ; de- 
prived of the support of which the flesh would be forced out of its 
position. And on the other hand, we could not lay hold of hard sub- 
stances by means of the nails alone ; for these being themselves hard, 
would easily slip from the contact of hard bodies. 

" Thus then the soft flesh at the tips of the fingers compensating 
for the unyielding nature of the nails, and the nails giving support to 
the yielding softness of the flesh, the fingers are hereby rendered 
capable of holding substances that are both small and hard. And 
this will be more evident, if you consider the effect of an unusual 
length of the nails ; for where the nails are immoderately long, and 
consequently come in contact with each other, they cannot lay hold 
of any minute object, as a small thorn or a hair : while on the other 
hand, if, from being unusually short, they do not reach to the ex- 
tremities of the fingers, minute bodies are incapable of being held 
through defect of the requisite support : but if they reach exactly to 
the extremities of the fingers, they then, and then only, fulfil the in- 
tention for which they were made. The nails, however, are appli- 
cable to many other purposes besides those which have been men- 
tioned ; as in polishing and scraping, and in tearing and pealing off* 
the skin of vegetables, or animals : and in short, in almost every 
art where nicety of execution is required, the nails are called into 
action.*' 

In alluding to the sceptics of his time, the language of Galen is 
as follows, f" Whoever admires not the skill and contrivance of 



Lib. i. cap. 7. 



f Lib. iii. cap. 10. 



CONSIDERED AS A CORPOREAL ORGAN". 



31 



nature, must either be deficient in intellect, or must have some pri- 
vate motive, which withholds him from expressing his admiration. 
He must be deficient in intellect, if he do not perceive that the human 
hand possesses all those qualification swhich it is desirable it should 
possess ; or if he think that it might have had a form and construction 
preferable to that which it has : or he must be prejudiced, by having 
imbibed some wretched opinions, consistently with which he could 
not allow that contrivance is observable in the works of nature."* 

Galen then sums up this part of the argument. " The contrivances 
of nature are so various, and so consummately skilful, that the wisest 
of mankind, in endeavouring to search them out, have not yet been 
able to discover them all."f And nearly in the same words, expres- 
sive of the same sentiment, does Solomon say — " Then I beheld all 
the work of God, that a man cannot find out the work that is done 
under the sun : because though a man labour to seek it out, yet he 
shall not find it ; yea farther ; though a wise man think to know it, 
yet shall he not be able to find it."J 

I may be permitted, perhaps, to subjoin a passage from another 
part of the same work of Galen, though not confined to the same 
subject ; in which, after having noticed many evidences of design in 
the construction of the human body, particularly the adaptation, in 
the number and size of the parts, to the effect to be produced, he 
breaks out into this remarkable apostrophe: || " How can a man of 
any intelligence refer all this to chance, as its cause : or, if he deny 
this to be the effect of foresight and skill, I would ask, what is there 
that foresight and skill do effect? For surely where chance or for- 
tune act, we see not this correspondence and regularity of parts. I 
am not very solicitous about terms ; but if you choose to call that 
chance which has so nicely constructed and so justly distributed all 
the parts of an animal body, do so ; only remember and allow, that 
in so doing you do not fairly exercise the privilege of framing new- 
terms : for in this way you may call the meridian splendour of the 
sun by the name of night ; and the sun itself, darkness. What ! was 
it chance that made the skin give way so as to produce a mouth 1 or, 
if this happened by chance, did chance also place teeth and a tongue 
within that mouth? For, if so, why should there not be teeth and a 

* Galen adds : " Such persons we are bound to pity, as being originally infatu- 
ated with respect to so main a point ; while at the same time, it. behoves us to pro- 
ceed in the instruction of those happier individuals, who are not only possessed of 
a sound intellect, but of a love of truth." 

On another occasion, in reprobating such cavillers, he says : (lib. iii. cap. 10.) 
" But if I waste more time on such profligates, virtuous men might justly accuse 
me of polluting this sacred argument, which 1 have composed as a sincere hymn to 
the praise and honour of the Creator; being persuaded that true piety to him con- 
sists, not in the sacrifice of whole hecatombs of oxen, nor in the offer of a thousand 
varieties of incense ; but in believing within ourselves, and in declaring to others, 
how great he is in wisdom, power, and goodness." 

tLib. x. cap. 10. * Eccles. viii. 17. \ Lib. xi. cap. 7. and 8. 



32 



ON THE BRAIN", 



tongue in the nostrils, or in the ear ?" Or, to carry on a similar ap- 
peal, " did chance dispose the teeth themselves in their present order ; 
which if it were any other than it is, what would be the consequence ? 
If, for instance, the incisors and canine teeth had occupied the back 
part of the mouth, and the molar or grinding teeth had occupied the 
front, what use could we have made of either? Shall we then ad- 
mire the skill of him who disposes a chorus of thirty-two men in just 
order; and can we deny the skill of the Creator, in disposing the 
same number of teeth in an order so convenient, so necessary even 
for our existence?" 

He then extends the argument to the teeth of other animals, as 
corresponding with the nature of their food ; and also to the form of 
their feet, as having a relation to the character of their teeth. 

" Never," says Cuvier, one of the most experienced physiologists 
of the present age, " never do you see in nature the cloven hoof of 
the ox joined with the pointed fang of the lion ; nor the sharp talons 
of the eagle accompanying the flattened beak of the swan." 

In corresponding expressions Galen exclaims, " * How does it hap- 
pen that the teeth and talons of the leopard and lion should be simi- 
lar ; as also the teeth and hoofs of the sheep and goat ; that in animals 
which are by nature courageous, there should be found sharp and 
strong weapons, which are never found in those animals that are by 
nature timid : or, lastly, that in no animal do we meet with a com- 
bination of powerful talons with inoffensive teeth? How should this 
happen, but that they are all the work of a Creator, who ever kept 
in mind the use and mutual relation of different organs, and the final 
purpose of all his works ?" 



CHAPTER IV. 

On the Brain, considered as the Organ of the Intellectual Faculties. 

It can no more be doubted that many of the phenomena of nature, 
and the important practical and philosophical conclusions deduced 
from them, would have been hitherto concealed from human know- 
ledge, had man failed to exercise those intellectual faculties with 
which the Creator has endued him ; than that political communities 
w r ould have failed to exist, and social life to be adorned with the arts 
of civilization, had all mankind determined to pursue the mode of life 
adopted by savage tribes : nor can it be doubted that the Creator, in 
mparting to man intellectual faculties superior to those of brutes, in- 

# Lib. xi. cap. 8. ed. Ktthn. vol. iii. p. 875 Hn. 3—17. and p. 892. I'm. 12.— .17. 



OX THE BRAIJf. 



33 



tended that he should exercise them, not solely with a view to the 
higher and future destination of his nature, but also with a view to 
the purposes of this present life. 

Since however the senses of hearing, sight, and touch, which are 
the great inlets of knowledge, are possessed by many of the inferior 
classes of animals in common with ourselves, by some indeed in a 
more exquisite degree ; since also those animals are capable of re- 
membering past, and conjecturing future events, although incapable 
of the more abstract functions of the understanding ; it becomes 
highly interesting to inquire whether there is anything in the physi- 
cal structure of man which renders him more capable of being acted 
on by external agents, with respect to the developement of his intel- 
lectual faculties, than brutes are : in other words, whether there is a 
material instrument in animal organization, the general composition 
of which is in obvious correspondence with the degree of intellect 
evinced by different species of animals, including man as one of those 
species. 

Now, if any one in the least degree conversant with the laws of 
optics and of sound, were to doubt the adaptation of the structure of 
the eye and of the ear to those laws respectively, he would fairly be 
ranked among the individuals of that class of speculatists whose 
minds are too weak to apprehend any truth. And though there is 
not so obvious a relation between the structure of the brain and the 
exercise of the mental faculties, as in the case of the eye and light, 
and of the ear and sound; yet the indications of a mutual connexion 
between the two are both clear and numerous. And hence not only 
have philosophical inquirers in all ages acknowledged such a con- 
nexion ; but the most common observers have ever felt an intuitive 
conviction of its existence, and have considered the brain as the in- 
strument of thought and reason :* the truth of which assertion is evi- 
dent from various metaphorical terms expressive both of intellectual 
defect and of intellectual excellence. 

It may be presumed that, without the aid afforded by the study 
of anatomy or natural history, the most cursory observer might 
discover that the indications of intelligence manifested by the vari- 
ous classes of animals generally correspond in degree with their 
approximation in physical structure to man ; and that, if we confine 
our view to the four highest classes, namely fish, reptiles, birds, and 
quadrupeds, and consider them with reference to their respective de- 
gree of docility ; fish and reptiles, which are the lowest in the scale, 
will readily be allowed to be inferior to birds, which are a degree 

* and his pure brain 

Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling house 
Doth, by the idle comments which it makes, 
Foretell the ending of mortality. 

King John, Act 5, Scene 7. 



34 



ON THE BRAIN. 



higher in the scale ; and these again will with equal readiness be 
allowed to be inferior to quadrupeds, which are the highest. 

And it would be acknowledged upon a more accurate investiga- 
tion, that, although there are at first sight some seeming exceptions 
to the regularity of gradation, the apparent anomalies vanish when 
put to the test of a philosophical examination. Should it be said, 
for instance, that the bee or the ant shows greater indications of 
intelligence than many species much higher in the scale of animal 
creation, it may be answered that those indications are manifested 
in actions which are referable to instinct, rather than intelligence ; 
actions namely, which being essential to the existence of the indi- 
viduals, and the preservation of the species, are apparently deter- 
mined by some internal impulse which animals unconsciously obey. 
Nor does it militate against such a notion of instinct, that when ac- 
cidental impediments prevent the regular evolution of the comb, 
taking that as an instance, the bee accommodates the arrangement 
of its fabric to the impediment which is placed in its way: for such 
a modification of instinct is as clearly necessary in the case of an 
occasional impediment, as instinct itself is necessary for the general 
purpose. 

In speaking of instinct I purposely avoid a formal definition of the 
term: for any attempt to define with accuracy a principle, of the 
real nature of which we are ignorant, usually leaves us in a state 
of greater darkness than w r e were before; of which the following 
extraordinary attempt, with reference to the very principle now un- 
der consideration, is a sufficient illustration. It is quoted from an 
author of the name of Wagner, in a work on the Brain of Man 
and other Animals, written by Wenzel and his brother; and is as 
follows : " The instincts of animals are nothing more than inert or 
passive attractions derived from the power of sensation: and the 
instinctive operations of animals nothing more than crystallizations 
produced through the agency of that power."* 

Of the general position, then, that the brain is the instrument of 
intelligence, and that the degree of intelligence characteristic of 
different classes of animals is proportional to the approximation of 
their structure to that of man, it may for the present be presumed 
that no one doubts. 

*"rnstinetus animalium nihil ftliud sunt, quam attractiones mortar a sensibili- 
tate profectse ; et eorum artificia nihil aliud quam crystallizationes per sensibilita- 
tem products;." Wenzel, lie penitiori Structure Cerebri Tubing, fol. 1812. p. 
248, 1, 10. ° * 



35 



CHAPTER V. 

THE NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS IN GENERAL. 

Section. I. 

The Nervous System of the inferior Animals. 

As the peculiarities in the structure of the human brain cannot be 
understood without a reference not only to the brain but to the ner- 
vous system at large of other animals ; it will be necessary to take 
such a survey of that system as may be sufficient for the present 
purpose. 

In the lowest species of animals, which appear to be devoid of 
any specific organs of digestion, motion, or sensation ; whose 
economy indeed only enables them to contribute, in a mode as yet 
unknown, to the nutrition and preservation of the individual, or to 
the continuation of the species, no distinct nervous system has yet 
been discovered, or at least satisfactorily demonstrated : it is pre- 
sumed rather than known that in such animals there exists a varia- 
ble number of small insulated masses of nervous matter called 
ganglions, which are connected with each other, and with different 
parts of the body, by means of slender filaments that radiate from, 
these masses in various directions. 

In ascending the scale of animal existence we meet with species, 
in which, though devoid of organs of sense and motion, there exist 
distinct organs of digestion : and in such species the upper part of 
the passage leading from the mouth to the stomach is usually sur- 
rounded by a kind of collar, from whence distinct nerves are dis- 
tributed to the other parts of the body. 

In ascending still higher the scale of animal existence we find, 
together with a greater symmetry of structure in the whole indi- 
vidual, additional component parts of the nervous system, and a 
greater degree of regularity in the distribution of these supperadded 
parts. Thus in those classes of animals which include the leech, 
the centipede, and the bee, whose bodies are naturally divisible into 
distinct segments, we find a series of ganglions placed opposite the 
respective segments, and sending out nerves which are appropriated 
to the muscles of voluntary motion attached to these segments: 
and the several ganglions are reciprocally united by intervening 
portions of a nervous cord, which is continued from one extremity 
of the body to the other ; so as to present the appearance of a 
thread in which knots have been tied at stated intervals. And in 
those species of these classes which have eyes, as is the case with 



36 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



insects, there are additional ganglions near the head ; from which 
arise the nerves of vision, and probably, of touch. 

If, in ascending still higher the scale of animal existence, we 
examine the nervous system of fish, reptiles, birds, and quadrupeds, 
we find that those parts which are subservient to the nutrition of the 
individual, and to the continuation of the species, are supplied with 
ganglions and nerves corresponding in their general character and 
mode of distribution with the nervous system of the lower classes : 
and that the arrangement of the nerves of voluntary motion merely 
differs from that of the intermediate classes, in being more elabo- 
rate; the individual nerves all communicating with a continuous 
cord which extends from one extremity of the body to the other ; 
but which instead of floating loosely in the general cavity of the 
body, as in insects, &c. is contained in a canal essentially consisting 
of a series of parts called vertebrce, which taken together form what 
is called the spine or backbone. From the structure of this spine 
these classes are called vertebrated : and it is deserving of notice 
that these classes alone have a cranium, or skull. 

The nervous cord above described is known more familiarly un- 
der the name of the spinal marrow, a term which is derived from 
its resemblance, in some of its physical characters, to the oil con- 
tained in the interior of the bones of man and various other ani- 
mals. 

That portion of the spinal cord which is contiguous to the head 
is continued into the cavity of the skull; and is there apparently 
lost in a more or less regular mass of nervous matter called the 
brain : which is small, and simple in its structure, in fish ; larger, 
and more complicated, progressively, in reptiles, birds, and quadru- 
peds; largest, and most complicated, in man. From the lower sur- 
face of the brain arise several pairs of nerves which are principally 
distributed upon the organs of the distinct senses, and muscles of 
the face ; and it is worthy of observation, that while the muscles of 
mere animal motion, as of the trunk and extremities, are derived 
from the spinal marrow ; the muscles of the face, which may be 
called pre-eminently the muscles of moral and intellectual expres- 
sion, are derived from the brain itself. 

In ascending then from fish, the lowest of the four classes of 
vertebral animals, to quadrupeds which constitute the highest class, 
the general mass, of the brain upon the whole increases in propor- 
tional size ; and at the same time it also more and more resembles 
that of man both in its general form, and in the character and pro- 
portions of its several parts. But the human brain, when fully de- 
veloped, contains parts which do not exist in the brain of those ani- 
mal species which approach nearest to man in the structure of this 
part.* 

* It may be convenient here to state that the human brain is naturally divisible 
into two parts, called the cerebrum and cerebellum ; of which the former is eight or 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



87 



It cannot be uninteresting in an inquiry like the present to add, 
with respect to those occasional deviations from the common form, 
called monsters and lusus naturse, that nature never elevates the 
brain of an individual of a lower to that of a higher class ; though 
the brain of an individual of a higher is frequently not developed 
beyond the degree of a lower : and this law of the developement of 
the brain is, with reference at least to the distinction of classes, 
correspondent with that of the general form. Thus a lusus naturse 
or monster in the class of quadrupeds, for instance, or of birds, 
may have two heads, or eight legs ; but the supernumerary parts 
will be always those of its own class, indeed of its own species ; 
and therefore it is absurd to suppose that if there be no mixture of 
species in the same class, there should ever be a confusion of two 
distinct kingdoms of nature. 

Horace, than whom no one better understood the principles of ima- 
ginative or artificial poetry, knew that abrupt combinations of hete- 
rogeneous subjects would certainly offend a correct taste, because 
unnatural : for taste, it may be affirmed, is, in one of its essential 
attributes, a feeling in harmony with natural combinations ; whe- 
ther the individual combination be that of sounds, or colours, or 
forms, or of intellectual images, or moral sentiments : and nature, 
which may be pre-eminently called the. Hyyv\ tfo^ruo}, though she 
may occasionally surprise the mind by unusual combinations of or- 
gans natural to the species, never so couples together heterogeneous 
organs, as that the limbs of animals of one species should be 
united with those of another species ; in short, as Horace himself 
expresses the conception, 

Non ut 

Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus agni.* 



Section II. 
The Nervous System of Man. 

The nervous system of man, without any reference to that of 
other animals, naturally resolves itself into three sufficiently distinct 
divisions : of which one is appropriated to those parts, which cha- 
racterise him as simply an organized being ; another, to his powers 
of voluntary motion ; the third, or the brain, to the organs of the 

nine times larger than the latter. The cerebrum, which occupies nearly the whole 
of the cavity of the skull, consists of two parts, called hemispheres : and it should 
be particularly borne in mind that it is with reference to the great size of its hemi- 
spheres that the human brain exceeds that of all other animals. 

* The subject of lusus naturae, or monsters, will be resumed towards the con- 
clusion of this treatise. 

4 



38 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



several senses, and, probably, to the manifestation of the intellectual 
powers and moral affections. 

Of the two first of the foregoing divisions it is not necessary to 
speak more at large; because no doubt exists in the minds of 
physiologists as to the nature of their offices. But this is not the 
case with respect to the brain ; which therefore demands a greater 
share of our attention. 

Of all the parts of the nervous system taken collectively, the 
brain has been most generally considered as the organ of the mind : 
and it has long been a favourite speculation to endeavour to ascer- 
tain what part of this organ is subservient to the existence and exer- 
cise of those intellectual powers and moral feelings, which to a 
greater or less extent are possessed by many other animals as well 
as man. It is presumed at least that of the existence of intellectual 
powers or moral feelings in brutes no one can doubt, who has been 
at all accustomed to observe the characters and habits of animals ;* 
so that when in common language it is asserted that man differs 
from other animals in possessing reason, while they are irrational, 
the term reason must be taken in its most extended sense, as im- 
plying the aggregate faculties of man, both moral and intellectual. 

I will not here insist on the evidence of the intellectual powers of 
brutes, as deducible from the effects of what we call instinct ; be- 
cause in all those actions which are the result of instinct, animals 
appear to be guided by a natural and irresistible impulse from with- 
in, which leads them to seek or to avoid that which will be either 
useful or injurious to them ; and enables them to perform the most 
complicated acts, as the building of a nest or the construction of a 
comb, though they may never even have seen the same acts per- 
formed by other individuals of their species. I would rather insist 
on that evidence of their intellectual powers, which is derived from 
their conduct, when, in consequence of having been removed from 
their natural sphere of action, they are impelled by external and 
accidental circumstances. Thus the wariness of old animals in 
avoiding the pursuit or arts of man, and the sagacity with which a 
practised hound will cut off an angle in order to shorten his dis- 
tance, may be considered as proofs of a considerable degree of in- 
tellectual rather than of instinctive prudence in brutes. 

The playfulness of the young of most quadrupeds, often indeed 
observable in the adult animal also, may be regarded as no obscure 
proof of the exercise of the intellectual faculty which we call ima- 
gination ; for that playfulness almost always consists in the repre- 
sentation of mutual hostility, though the real disposition at the same 
time is anything but hostile. The dog for instance, under such 

* Aristotle, in his History of Animals, distinctly affirms such an existence — 
tvio-ri yap \v role Trxsterrotc not rZv uKXw £^a>v i%v» tZ>v Trsp) <r«v 4 w /t > ' v ^P^^v, amp 
vxt tZv av&p*7rw tyji pctvepwrepsis .ras Siuxpopds. p. 212. lin. 7 — 10. ed. Bekker. 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



39 



circumstances, snarls and bites, but with evident intention not to 
hurt. 

Of the existence of moral feelings in brutes, there is still more 
decided proof than of the existence of intellect. Thus the expres- 
sion of joy in a dog at sight of his master is not to be mistaken, and 
the expression of fear in a horse at the sound of the whip is equally 
unequivocal in its character. Again, animals become attached not 
only to individuals of their own species, but to individuals of even a 
different order or class : and they evidently feel regret upon sepa- 
ration from these their companions. 

On the supposition that the brain is the organ of the intellectual 
powers, physiologists have been led to compare the proportions of 
the whole and of its several regions in man and brutes ; in order to 
arrive at a knowledge of such facts as might serve for a basis for 
ascertaining which are the parts essential to its action as such an 
organ. It has been supposed by some that the intellectual faculties 
may be in proportion to the absolute size of the brain; such an 
opinion being grounded on the fact, that the human brain is larger 
than that of the horse or ox. But on the other hand, the brain of 
the whale or of the elephant taken in its whole mass is larger than 
that of man ; though the intelligence even of the elephant bears no 
proportion to that of the human mind. Again, the brain of the 
monkey or of the dog is smaller than that of the ox or the ass ; yet 
with respect to their intellectual faculties the former approximate 
much more closely to man than the latter. Neither do the dispo- 
sitions or qualities of animals appear to be connected with the abso- 
lute size of their brain : for animals most different and even opposite 
in disposition may be ranged in the same class with reference to 
the size of this organ ; the tiger and the deer, for instance, among 
quadrupeds ; and among birds, the hawk and the pigeon. 

It would appear probable from some instances, that the propor- 
tional size of the brain with reference to the size of the body would 
give a more uniform result. Thus a crocodile twelve feet in length, 
a serpent eighteen feet in length, and a turtle that weighs from three 
hundred to five hundred pounds, have not any of them a quantity of 
substance in their brain equal to half an ounce ; and the slight de- 
gree of intellectual power manifested by these animals corresponds 
with such a proportion. But on examination it appears that the 
proportional size of the brain is not a more certain criterion than 
the absolute size. The brain of the elephant for instance is smaller 
in proportion to its body than that of any other quadruped : and yet 
what quadruped exceeds the elephant in sagacity ? and, in com- 
paring many of the inferior animals with man in this respect, it is 
found that not only do different genera of the same order differ very 
widely from each other in the proportion of their brain to their body, 
as the bat and the fox ; but that the proportion is sometimes in- 
versely as the degree of intellect of the animal : thus, as far as we 



40 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



are capable of judging, the intellect of the fox is infinitely greater 
than that of the bat, and yet the brain of the former, proportionally 
to its body, is only one half the size of the latter. Occasionally 
the disproportion is still greater in different species of the same 
genus, and even in different varieties of the same species : thus in 
some dogs the brain compared with the body is as one to fifty, while 
in others it is as one to three hundred. 

Again, it appears that the brain of some of the genera of the 
lowest orders in a class is proportionally larger than that of some 
of the genera of the higest orders. Thus, in the mammalia, the 
brain of the dolphin, which animal is in the lowest order of that 
class, is in proportion to its body four times as large as the brain 
of the fox, which is an animal of one of the highest orders. And 
the brain of the mouse and of the mole are nearly, if not quite as 
large, in proportion to their body, as that of man. And the same 
circumstance occurs even in the second class, or birds ; for the 
brain of the sparrow is in proportion to the body, as large as, nay 
even larger, than that of man. 

Lastly, for it is unnecessary, and would be tedious, to enter 
further into the detail of this part of the subject, there does not 
appear to be any connexion between the degree of intellectual 
faculties and the mutual proportions of the several constituent parts 
of the brain; or between the degree of intellectual faculties and the 
mutual proportions of the brain and nerves. So that it appears, 
from a review of what has been advanced, that no criterion of the 
degree of intellect is found in the absolute size of the brain ; nor in 
its relative size, as compared with that of the body of the indivi- 
dual ; nor in the relative size of its constituent parts, or of the whole 
of it, to the nerves. 



Section III. 

Indications of natural Talent and Disposition deducible from the 
Structure of the Brain. 

If the entire history of the brain were a primary object in 
this treatise, it would be right here to investigate in detail the ob- 
servations and theory of Dr. Gall respecting this organ : but on 
the present occasion it will be unnecessary to refer to that theory 
further than may be required by the course of the argument. 

The simple enunciation of Dr. Gall's theory is this, that "the 
brain in general is the instrument by which the intellectual faculties, 
and the moral sentiments and propensities, are manifested; particu- 
lar parts of it being the organs of those several faculties, sentiments, 
and propensities : and that according to the state of these organs 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



41 



will be the faculties, sentiments, and propensities of each indivi- 
dual." 

To those who have objected to this theory, that it leads towards 
the doctrines of fatalism, and the material nature of the soul, it has 
been answered ; first, that as, according to the theory, no individual, 
who is endued with intellect, is deficient in the organs of those 
moral sentiments, which, if cultivated, will be sufficient to coun- 
teract whatever bad propensities he may have, the theory cannot 
consistently be accused of inculcating the doctrine of fatalism : and 
secondly, that without inquiring what the soul is, or in what manner 
it is united to the body in this life, which Dr. Gall considers as 
questions not only beyond the comprehension of human reason, but 
totally unconnected with his inquiries, the theory merely investi- 
gates the material conditions of that part of the body by which the 
soul is affirmed to manifest itself to our observation. 

It has been already stated that, in exposing to view the lower 
surface of the brain, several pairs of nerves are observable which 
may be traced to the organs of sense and some other parts : and it is 
admitted by many anatomists of acknowledged accuracy, that, of 
all these pairs, not one, excepting the olfactory and optic, is derived 
from the great mass of the brain called its hemispheres : but Dr. 
Gall shows it to be highly probable in fact, as it evidently is in 
reasoning, that neither the olfactory nor the optic nerves are derived 
from the hemispheres : whence it would appear that, with the 
doubtful exception of the nerves of smell and sight, not a single 
nerve of the whole body is derived from the great mass of the brain : 
for the organs of the other senses, and all the muscles of voluntary 
motion, together with the whole assemblage of the organs of diges- 
tion, and the heart, and the lungs, are evidently supplied from other 
sources. 

Either then the great mass of the brain is allotted in a most ano- 
malous disproportion to the two senses of smell and sight, which in 
many animals are comparatively weak ; or, if it do not supply the 
nerves of sight and smell, there is no part of the body which it does 
apparently supply with nerves : and then the conclusion presses upon 
us with peculiar force, that the brain is exclusively the instrument of 
the immaterial part of our present existence. 

It appears from Dr. Gall's own account, that he was originally 
led to this peculiar train of thought by observing the difference of 
talents and character in his own brothers, and in other children with 
whom he happened to associate ; some of whom, though under per- 
fectly similar circumstances of education with the rest, were much 
quicker in apprehending what was taught them : and further, by ob- 
serving in different individuals of the same species of animals, as dogs> 
that some were fierce, some mild : again, that in birds of the same 
species some continued to sing their own notes only, while others 
would listen to, and imitate, artificial music : and with reference to 

4* 



42 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



the last-mentioned instance particularly, he argued that the differ- 
ence could not arise from the greater or less degree of perfection in 
the organ of hearing, for it is the same in both ; but must be looked 
for in the brain, to which the organ of hearing conveys sounds ; and 
in which, and not in the ear itself, they are perceived. There are 
moreover numerous instances which show that the sense of hearing 
is by no means in proportion to the degree of perfection in the con- 
struction of the ear. Thus, the dog, hears with indifference the 
sweetest melody : and yet the construction of his ear approximates 
more to that of man than the construction of the ear of even the 
most musical birds. And on this point Dr. Gall asks, if the organ of 
hearing determine the power of singing, why should the female 
bird be mute, seeing that in this part of its bodily construction it dif- 
fers not from the male? It is equally observable that in men the 
talent for music is not in proportion to any superiority in the organ 
of hearing ; in the construction of which indeed there is little if any 
apparent difference between any two individuals. 

Partial insanity and partial idiotcy are among the circumstances 
which Dr. Gall considers as favouring his theory. The frequency 
of the former must be a fact well known to all : the latter is not un- 
common ; and even persons of considerable intelligence occasionally 
exhibit very obscure traces of this or that particular faculty. Other 
arguments in favour of his system he draws from the temporary ef- 
fects produced by cerebral inflammation on the state of the mental 
powers : in the case, for instance, of idiots, who during the inflam- 
matory action have manifested a considerable degree of understand- 
ing ; but after the cessation of that action have relapsed into their 
former state of fatuity. 

It would seem, in the instances here adduced by Dr. Gall, that the 
mental faculties which had been previously in a state of fatuity, are 
rendered for the time rational, in consequence of a degree of excite- 
ment which in individuals not labouring under fatuity would have 
probably produced delirium : and, as a rational state of the faculties 
may be considered, to use a mathematical expression, as a mean pro- 
portional to fatuity and delirium, it might be expected that the same 
cause which would raise a rational state of the faculties to delirium, 
would raise an idiotic only to a natural state : as, in a similar man- 
ner, wine is observed to modify the characters of individuals of dif- 
ferent temperaments, by elevating them for the moment : 

" It keeps the unhappy from sinking*, 
And makes e'en the valiant more brave." 

It would occupy too much time to enter into the detail of this in- 
teresting part of Dr. Gall's system : nor was more originally intended 
than to introduce the subject to the consideration of those, who hap- 
pen not to have reflected on it before, in such a manner as to enable 
them to form some judgment of the merits of a theory, the charac- 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



43 



ter of which has been injured to the full as much by its injudicious 
friends as by its professed enemies. Of this theory it may perhaps 
be affirmed with truth, that, considered as an abstract philosophical 
speculation, it is highly ingenious, and founded upon unobjectionable 
principles : and that while the general conclusion is inevitable with 
respect to the collective functions of the brain, there is nothing un- 
reasonable in supposing that specific parts serve specific purposes. 
The rock, on which Dr. Gall and his implicit advocates have split, 
is the attempt to fix the local boundaries of the several faculties of 
the soul. Had he satisfied himself with developing the structure of 
the brain in the various classes of animals ; and had he been con- 
tent to show that, in tracing its structure from those animals which 
manifest the least indications of intelligence to those which exhibit 
still stronger and stronger, it proportionally advances in its resem- 
blance to the structure of the human; and lastly, had he only drawn 
from these premises the general probable conclusion, that specific 
parts had specific uses with respect to the manifestations of the im- 
material principle of animal existence : (and assuredly brutes are 
endued with such a principle, though, as being devoid of the moral 
sense, they are not fitted for a future state, and consequently perish 
w r hen their bodies die ;) had Dr. Gall been content to have stopped at 
this point, without venturing to define the local habitations of the 
supposed specific organs, he would have acquired the unalloyed fame 
of having developed a beautiful train of inductive reasoning in one 
of the most interesting provinces of speculative philosophy : whereas, 
in the extent to which he has carried his principles, his doctrine has 
become ridiculous as a system ; while in its individual applications 
it is not only useless, but of a positively mischievous tendency : for, 
without the aid of this system, every man of common sense has suf- 
ficient grounds on which to judge of the characters of those with 
whom he associates ; and it is evidently more safe to judge of others 
by their words and actions, and the general tenor of their conduct, 
than to run the risk of condemning an individual from the indication 
of some organ, the activity of which, for a moment allowing its ex- 
istence, may have been subdued by the operation of moral or reli- 
gious motives. 

But there is an occasional absurdity in the application of the 
theory, which, though obvious, does not seem to have been noticed. 
Let us suppose, for instance, the case of a murderer ; and that a dis- 
ciple of Dr. Gall were to maintain that, as the crime of murder pro- 
ceeds from the operation of the organ of destructiveness, that organ 
would be found highly developed in such an individual; and yet, 
upon actual inspection, this were not found to be the case. Here, 
although the disciple of Dr. Gall might be disappointed in finding no 
such developement, a plain reasoner would not be so disappointed : 
for is it not obvious that avarice, or shame, or jealousy might in a 
moment operate so powerfully as to lead an individual to the crime 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



of murder, whose nature and habits were as far as possible removed 
from the propensity to that crime ; and who, consequently, accord- 
ing to Dr. Gall's own principles, would be devoid of any undue 
developement of the organ of murder 1 

With respect to ourselves indeed, the study of the system may be 
attended sometimes with the happiest consequences : for if, from the 
contemplation of it, we can be strengthened in our conviction of the 
fact, which both reason and revelation teach us, that each individual 
is liable to particular temptations depending on his specific tempera- 
ment, we shall thus have one additional memento of our frailty, one 
additional incentive to watch over, and combat, " the sin which doth 
so easily beset us." 



Section IV. 

The general Doctrine of Physiognomy, as connected with the Form of 

. the Body. 

As the indiscreet zeal, not only of Dr. Gall, but of physiognomists 
in genera], has thrown unmerited discredit on that department of 
speculative philosophy which they have cultivated, it may be worth 
while to examine the subject on other authority than that of professed 
physiognomists. 

There are many phenomena, then, connected with the moral and 
intellectual faculties of man, both in a healthy and diseased state, 
which, by showing the reciprocal influence of the two distinct parts 
of our nature, the soul and the body, render it probable that the en- 
ergies of the former, although it be itself immaterial, may be mani- 
fested by means of a material instrument. The existence of this re- 
ciprocal influence, which indeed we might expect from their intimate 
though mysterious union, cannot be denied. Thus grief or expecta- 
tion destroys appetite ; and mental application to any favourite pursuit 
makes us insensible of the want of food : and, on the other hand, a dis- 
ordered state of the digestive organs evidently impedes the free exer- 
cise of the mental powers ; or oppresses the soul with those dreadful, 
though really groundless apprehensions, which have been termed 
hypochondriacal from the situation of the organs, the morbid state 
of which is supposed to give rise to those apprehensions. Again, 
intoxication confuses the memory and judgment ; and the repeated 
abuse of wine permanently debilitates the mind, and often terminates 
in confirmed insanity. The state of the air affects the mental ener- 
gies and moral feelings of many individuals, to a degree inconceiva- 
ble to those who are not thus subject to its influence. And the im- 
pression of fear has been known suddenly to arrest the symptoms of 
endemic ague and epilepsy. 

The general idea that this connexion of the soul and body may be 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



45 



traced in the conformation of the latter, it will be at once remembered, 
is by no means new : and the anecdote of the unfavourable judgment 
passed on the moral disposition of Socrates, from the character of 
his countenance, will readily recur to the mind on this occasion. 
Aristotle has even entered into some details on the forms and shades 
of colour of the hair and features, and indeed of various other parts 
of the body, as indicative of particular temperaments or constitutions 
of the mind.* And it is hardly a question, whether every individual 
is not accustomed in some degree to decide on character from the 
features, the colour of the hair, and other external indications, inde- 
dendently of that expression of the countenance, which rather marks 
the actually existing state of the mind than the latent disposition of 
it.f But if it be in any degree probable that the connexion between 
the soul and body may be traced in the conformation of the features 
or other parts of the body, in a much greater must it be probable that 
that connexion may be traced in the structure of the brain. 

Nor does there appear, on the ground either of reason or of reli- 
gion, any thing objectionable or absurd in the assumption, antece- 
dently to observation, that the intellectual and moral tendencies of 
the soul may in a qualified sense be determined, or at least modified, 
by the peculiar structure of the body : that they are frequently coin- 
cident with certain peculiarities of corporeal structure is a matter of 
actual observation. 

. Is it absurd to suppose that, man being a compound of soul and 
body, the body has been so constructed in each individual as to 
become a fit arena on which that struggle shall be manifested, which 
undoubtedly takes place between the conflicting passions of the soul 1 
For it will not be denied by those to whom this treatise is addressed, 
that the soul wants not the substance of a corporeal frame for the 
mere existence of its evil principles, but only for the external mani- 

* For an exposition of Aristotle's views on this subject, consult a work of Galen, 
entitled I1EPI T.QN TH2 ¥TXH2 H0fiN, in which the question of the connexion 
between the faculties of the soul and the conformation of the body is discussed. Ga- 
len, op. Kahn. vol. iv. p. 768 — 798. 

f Shakspeare has several references to indications of personal character, as de- 
pending- on the form of the countenance, &c. 

CleopaL Bear'st thou her face in mind ? i'st long-, or round ? 
Messeng. Round, even to faultiness, 
CleopaL For the most part too, 

They are foolish that are so. Her hair, what colour ? 
Messeng. Brown, madam : and her forehead 
As low as she would wish it. 

Antony and Cleopatra, Act III. Scene 3. 

Caliban We shall lose our time, 

And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes 
With foreheads villanous low. 

Tempest, Act IV. near the end. 

Julia. Ay, but her forehead's low ; and mine's as high. 

Two Gentlemen op Verona, end of Act IV. 



46 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



festation of them. An authority at least which cannot be questioned 
by a believer in revelation, asserts that out of the heart, that is, evi- 
dently from the context, out of the soul, proceed murder, theft, 
adultery, and the like. 

Is it absurd to suppose that, the brain being a very complicated 
organ, made up of distinctly different parts, these parts are subser- 
vient to the exercise of different functions? or, since it is evident 
that in every other individual organ of the body, where there is an 
identity of structure, there is also an identity of function in all the 
parts, may we not fairly presume that, were the integral parts differ- 
ent, the effects produced would be different ; and, consequently, that 
as the integral parts of the brain differ from each other, the offices 
of those parts may be different ? Or, again, will it be denied as a 
matter of fact that different faculties and propensities manifest them- 
selves in different individuals ; and is it unreasonable, on the ground 
of analogy, our only ground in this case, to suppose that they mani- 
fest themselves through the agency of different instruments? And 
since the visceral nerves are appropriated to the mere vital functions 
of nutrition ; and the spinal nerves to general muscular motion and 
common sensation ; and the nerves of the special senses occupy but 
a very small portion of the brain ; to what assignable purpose can 
the great mass of that organ be applied, if not to the operations of 
that intellectual and moral principle, which, after the abstraction of 
the organs of nutrition, motion, and sensation, is the only imaginable 
part of our present nature ? 

Is the language of Scripture entirely allegorical throughout the 
sacred volume ? or do we believe on just grounds that we are con- 
taminated with an innate propensity to evil ; that there are two prin- 
ciples within us constantly struggling for the mastery ; and that, spite 
of our better part, and against the strongest feelings of conscience 
and determination of judgment, we still are for ever yielding to the 
worse ? 

Shall we deny that the tendencies to evil are different in character 
in different individuals ; and by that denial shall we attempt to falsify 
the testimony of experience as to the fact itself; and the conclusions 
of antecedent reasoning as to its probability : for, if all men were 
avaricious for instance, or ambitious in the same points, where would 
be the field for the display of other qualities ; and how could the 
affairs of the world be conducted? 

But whatever may be the real state of the case — whether the brain 
act as a simple organ by the simultaneous operation of all its parts ; 
or wheiher those parts act independently in the production of specific 
effects — no one can doubt that the organ itself is the mysterious in- 
strument by means of which, principally, if not exclusively, a com- 
munication is maintained between the external world and the soul. 
Nor can it be doubted, indeed it is a matter of fact which is con- 
stantly open to our observation, that the degree of approximation in 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OP ANIMALS. 



47 



the structure of the brain of other animals to that of man bears a 
very obvious relation to the degree of intelligence manifested by the 
various classes of animals : so that, in just reasoning, it must on every 
consideration be admitted to be the instrument by which the various 
degrees of intelligence are manifested. 

It is a matter also of observation, that the powers of the mind are 
capable, like those of the body, of being strengthened by exercise 
and cultivation : and, further, that not only do the mental faculties 
gradually manifest themselves from the moment of birth onwards ; 
but that the physical developement of the brain advances propor- 
tionally up to a certain period. But on this point it will be desirable 
to make a few more particular remarks. 

Section V. 

The Developement of the Human Brain, compared with that of other 

Animals. 

The brain of all vertebral animals, including even man, is nearly 
identical in structure in the early period of the embryo state of those 
animals. But at the period of birth there is a very remarkable dif- 
ference between the degree of developement of the human brain, and 
of that of the inferior animals. In quadrupeds for instance, the brain, 
according to Wenzel, is fully developed at the moment of the birth 
of the individual; contains, that is, at that time, all the parts in as 
perfect a state as they are in the adult animal of the same species 
(Wenzel, p.'246): while, with respect to the human species, it is 
asserted by Wenzel, and his statement is confirmed by the observa- 
tions of others, that although the brain makes continual and rapid 
advances to its ultimate magnitude and perfect state, from the period 
of conception to the seventh year after birth, yet all the parts have 
not attained their full size till the age of seven years (p. 254). And 
this difference is exactly what might be antecedently expected, from 
the comparatively greater degree of intelligence manifested by the 
young of other animals, of the higher orders at least, than by the 
human infant. 

But it is very worthy of observation, that those parts of the human 
brain, which are formed subsequently to birth, are entirely wanting 
in all other animals, including even quadrupeds, which Wenzel has 
examined (p. 246) : and that during the evolution of the parts pecu- 
liar to the human brain, the peculiar faculties of the human intellect 
are proportionally developed: and finally, that, till those parts are 
developed, those faculties are not clearly perceptible (Wenzel, p. 247). 
But at the age of seven years the human being essentially possesses, 
although not yet matured by exercise and education, all those intel- 
lectual faculties which are thenceforward observable : and at that 



48 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



a^e the brain is perfect in all its parts. And, from the age of seven 
years to the age of eighty, the changes of the human brain with 
respect to size, either collectively or in its several parts, are so tri- 
fling as hardly to be worth notice (p. 24? — 266). 

In comparing either individual actions or the complicated opera- 
tions of man, with those of other animals, it is observable, that the 
actions and operations of the adult human being as much excel in 
design and method the actions and operations of all other adult ani- 
mals, as those of the infant are excelled in precision and adroitness 
by the young of all other animals (p. 247) : and both these facts 
correspond with the relative constitution of the brain at the respective 
periods ; the brain of other animals being perfect at birth, which is 
not the case with the infant ; while the brain of the adult human 
being manifests a higher degree of organization than that of any other 
animal, and is therefore physically fitted for functions of a higher 
order. 

It appears then highly probable, both from the intuitive conviction 
of mankind at large, and from a comparative examination of the 
structure and developement of the brain in man and other animals, 
that the intellectual superiority of man, physically considered, de- 
pends on the peculiarities of the human brain : and with respect to 
the rest of his body, it is certain that the hand is the instrument 
which gives him that decidedly physical superiority which he pos- 
sesses over all other animals. In all other respects there is no phy- 
siological difference, of any importance at least to the present argu- 
ment, between man and the higher orders of animals : and the pecu- 
liarities of his physical condition, with reference to the form and 
general powers of his body, rest therefore on those two organs, the 
hand and the brain. And as the adaptation of the external world 
to the physical condition of man must have a special reference to 
those peculiarities in his structure which distinguish him essentially 
from other animals, it has therefore been thought important to dedi- 
cate a considerable portion of this treatise to the investigation of the 
characters of the two organs above-mentioned. 

Section VI. 

Cursory View of the Extent of Human Power over the Objects of the 
External World, 

Having examined, as far as is necessary for the purpose of this 
treatise, the animal character of man, both with respect to the points 
in which he partakes of the nature of other species, and those in 
which he is elevated above them ; let us proceed to consider the 
adaptation of the external world to the physical condition of that 
being to whom the Creator has given dominion over all his other 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



49 



works ; whom alone, of all the living tenants of the earth, he has 
endued with a mind capable of conceiving, and corporeal powers 
capable of executing those wonderful combinations, which make 
him lord of the world which he inhabits; which enable him to com- 
pel the properties of inert matter to bend to his behests ; and to di- 
rect not only the energies of the inferior animals, but even those of 
his fellow creatures, to the purposes which he may have in view. 

In contemplating, for instance, as in all the pride of its appoint- 
ments it advances through the waves, the majestic movements of a 
man-of-war, let us trace its whole history, and thence admire the ex- 
tent of human power over the material world. Look at the rude 
canoe of the New Zealander, or call to mind the nearly as rude cor- 
acle of our own forefathers, and compare those simple and puny 
products of an infant art with the complicated and gigantic triumph 
of naval architecture now before you ; and no wonder if, observing 
the ease and precision of its movements, the unlettered savages of 
the islands of the Pacific conceived the stupendous machine to be 
some form of animated matter ; whose fierce nature and awful power 
were announced by the tremendous roar and destructive effects of 
artillery. 

Or, passing from inert matter to living and intellectual agents, let 
us in imagination first view the tumultuary and predatory incursions 
of the aboriginal borderers of the Ohio, or even of the more civilized 
tribes of modern Arabia ; revenge or booty their sole objects, with- 
out any plan of civil government or national aggrandizement ; and 
then let us contemplate the profound views and combinations of the 
Macedonian monarch — that military meteor, whose course, though 
occasionally eccentric, was yet constantly regulated by the prepon- 
derating attraction of his original design ; and whose plans, though 
marked by temporary and local devastation, yet secured the founda- 
tion of the durable and general prosperity of future generations. 
The theme is too vast and too sublime for the present effort, even 
had it never been before attempted ; but the genius of the learned 
author of the " Commerce and Navigation of the Ancients"* has 
admirably developed the great and profound views of Alexander, 
ignorantly described by Pope as the reveries of insane ambition ; 
and has significantly alluded to the successful accomplishment of 
his wonderful attempt, in that beautifully appropriate legend placed 
under the engraving of the head of his hero, 

" Aperiam terras gentibus."-{- 

Or let us investigate the career of the equally extraordinary con- 
queror of the present century. View him overcoming every moral 
and physical difficulty in the pursuit of his gigantic and fearful pro- 

• The very reverend W. Vincent, D. D. late clean of Westminster, 
t Q. Curt. lib. ix. cap. 6. 

5 



50 



NERVOUS SYSTEM OF ANIMALS. 



ject of universal empire ; uniting distant and hostile nations in con- 
federacies against their own liberties ; changing their long estab- 
lished dynasties, in order to set over them kings of his own family. 
View him absorbed in his heartless calculations on the advantages to 
be obtained, for his personal aggrandizement, by the endless sacri- 
fice of human life ; breaking into the peaceful occupations of do- 
mestic scenes, and desolating the happiness of myriads of his sub- 
jects, not to ward off the dangers of hostile invasion, nor to lay the 
foundation of the future good of his country, but solely to gratify his 
own insatiable thirst of power ; and yet by the magic of his name 
rallying round his standard, even to the last, the remnants of his 
former reckless schemes of inordinate ambition. 

In meditating on the astonishing scene presented to the imagina- 
tion by the description of a career so strange, we might almost be in 
doubt whether these effects were produced by a mere human mind ; 
or marked the presence of a superhuman intelligence, permitted for 
a time to exercise a guilty world. But whatever he were, he is gone ; 
and his place will know him no more. One moral reflection in the 
meantime forces itself upon the mind ; partly applicable to himself, 
and partly to mankind at large. 

Inebriated with prosperity, and regardless of the power which 
could alone uphold him, he fell from his towering height; and was 
banished far from the theatre of his former ambition, and almost, 
indeed, from the haunts of men. But, haply, the prolongation of his 
life in the silent retirement of that sequestered island was mercifully 
intended to lead him to a calm reflection on the real value of sublu- 
nary possessions : for how very visionary and like a dream must all 
his former life have frequently appeared to him, when standing on 
the brow of some precipitous rock, the natural boundary of his in- 
sulated prison, he mused on the interminable expanse of the Atlan- 
tic ; and compared his present desolation with his former glory. Or, 
if the terrors of Omnipotence failed even then to reach his obdurate 
heart, his example at least remains a merciful beacon to others ; who 
may learn from his doom, that there is a Power which can say, as 
easily to the tempestuous ocean of ambition, as to the deep, " Hither- 
to shalt thou come, but no further : and here shall thy proud waves 
be stayed." 



51 



CHAPTER VI. 

ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE TO THE WANTS OF MAN. 

Section I. 

The general Constitution of the Atmosphere. 

In the foregoing part of this treatise the physical condition of man 
has been considered under the view of the capabilities of his nature, 
rather than of his actual state : but it is evident on a moment's re- 
flection that his actual state will be very different at different periods 
of time, or in different parts of the world at the same period : and 
this observation applies no less to communities than to individuals. 
How great the contrast, with reference to the case of individuals, 
between the intellectual powers and attainments of a Newton and a 
native of New Holland ; and in the case of communities, how great 
the contrast between any of the kingdoms of modern Europe, and 
the rude tribes from whence they were originally derived. 

In proceeding then to illustrate the adaptation of the external 
world to the physical condition of the human species, we must view 
individuals or communities under all possible circumstances of ex- 
istence, and make the illustration of as general application as the na- 
ture of the subject evidently demands. 

And, in order to effect something like a systematic arrangement of 
the immense mass of materials whence the following illustration is 
to be deduced, it is proposed to investigate separately the four king- 
doms or divisions of nature, the general characters of which were 
given in the commencement of this treatise; beginning with the 
atmospherical and ending with the animal kingdom. 

If it were possible, with the bodily as with the mental eye, to be- 
hold the constitution of the atmosphere which surrounds our earth, 
we should view a compound probably the most complex in nature : 
for into this circumambient ocean of air, as it is called by Lucretius,* 
are carried up whatever exhalations arise not only from the earth it- 
self,' but from every organized form of matter whether living or in a 
state of decomposition that is found upon the earth's surface ; the 
dews of morning, the balms of evening, the fragrance of every plant 
and flower ; the breath and characteristic odour of every animal ; 
the vapour invisibly arising from the surface of the whole ocean and 
its tributary streams ; and, lastly, those circumscribed and baneful 
effluvia, however generated, which when confined to definite portions 

* Semper enim quodcunque fluit de rebus ; id orane 

Aeris in magnum fertur mare. Lib. V. 277, 8. 



52 



ADAPTATION" OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



of the atmosphere produce those various forms of fever which infest 
particular districts : or those more awful and mysterious miasmata, 
which, arising in some distant region, and advancing by a slow but 
certain march, carry terror and death to the inhabitants of another 
hemisphere. 

Such is the complex character of the atmosphere ; and, indeed, 
from this assemblage of vapours contained in it, it has received its 
peculiar appellation ; being the receptacle, or magazine, as it were, 
of terrestrial exhalations.* 

Ail these various exhalations however may be considered as fo- 
reign to the constitution of the air, being neither constantly nor neces- 
sarily present anywhere ; all, with the exception of that aqueous 
vapour which is continually arising from the surface of the earth, as 
well as of the ocean and every lake and river. But, in addition to 
this aqueous vapour, the air is also charged to a variable extent with 
light and heat and electricity : of which the two first are so obvi- 
oulsy adapted to the wants of man as to demand immediate atten- 
tion. Electricity is probably of equal importance in its relation to 
man : but the true character of that relation has not yet been suffi- 
ciently developed to call for a distinct consideration on the present 
occasion. 

Section II. 
Light. 

The metaphorical expressions of all ages and nations, with respect 
to light, sufficiently evince the value in which that inestimable gift is 
held. In the sacred Scriptures indeed, not only are temporal bless- 
ings compared with light, and temporal evils to darkness; but holy 
deeds are frequently described under the character of the former ; 
and unholy deeds under the character of the latter : and, with respect 
either to classical or oriental literature, a thousand instances might 
easily be adduced illustrative of the same metaphorical use of the 
terms in question. 

When, after a dark and tempestuous night, the mariner first per- 
ceives the dawn of returning day ; although that dawn discover to 
his view the evil plight to which the storm has reduced his vessel, 
why does he still hail day's harbinger as his greatest relief, but be- 
cause without the aid of light he could not possibly extricate himself 
from the difficulties of his situation ? Or, when the child, awakened 
from its sleep, finds itself alone in darkness, why is it overwhelmed 
with terror, and why does it call out for protection, but from the in- 
fluence of those undefined fears, which naturally occur to the mind 
under the privation of light ? 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



53 



There is something so congenial to our nature in light, something 

jj so repulsive in darkness, that, probably on this ground alone, the very 
aspect of inanimate things is instinctively either grateful or the re- 
verse, in consequence of our being reminded by that aspect of the 

; one or of the other : so that on this principle, perhaps, particular 
colours throughout every province of nature are more or less accept- 
able in proportion as they approach nearest or recede farthest from 
the character of light, whether reflected immediately from the hea- 
venly bodies, or from the azure of the sky, or from the thousand bril- 
liant hues with which the setting or the rising of the sun illuminates 

j its attendant clouds. 

In illustration of the principle just advanced, gold and silver among 
metals might be opposed to lead and iron : and, among flowers, the 
brilliancy of the crocus, the lily, or the rose, to the lurid aspect of 
henbane or belladonna. And though something of a moral character 
may in these instances determine the preference ; yet there is nothing 
unreasonable in supposing, that, as the instincts of the inferior animals 
regulate their tastes and distastes to natural objects ; so there may 

; also be in the case of human beings congruities, or the reverse, be- 
tween the sense impressed and the object impressing it. In fact, with 
respect to that sense, the organ of which is the ear, it is known that 
infants shrink back from deep sounds, and express delight at acute 
sounds, long before any intellectual or moral feeling can sway them ; 

i and, correspondency with this assertion, the lullaby of the nurse par- 
takes, among all nations, of the same essential character. It is a 
fact equally deducible from observation, that particular flavours and 
odours are naturally acceptable, or the reverse, to children. And 
again, with reference to the sense of touch, smooth surfaces almost 

| universally give a pleasing impression ; which is not imparted by 
rugged surfaces. Why then may it not be the same with respect to 
the sense of sight, in the case either of colour or of form ? 

The abundant supply of light from its natural source the sun, 
and the ease with which it is producible by artificial means during 
the absence of that luminary, render us habitually less sensible of its 

j real value, than undoubtedly we should be, were we to experience 
a long continued privation of it. And as to the regularly periodical 

! privation of it which we experience in consequence of the alterna- 

I tion of night with day, this is so far from being an evil, that it is 
obviously beneficial ; inasmuch as, in consequence of this very 
absence, sleep is both directly and indirectly conciliated : without 
which gift of Heaven, all our faculties would soon be exhausted, and 
all our happiness consequently extinguished. 

The beneficial influence of sleep on our whole frame is too obvi- 
ous in its effects to require any formal demonstration : but it will be 
interesting to consider its relation to the absence of light. It ap- 
pears then that, by a fundamental law of our nature, a sense of un- 
easiness invariablv follows a long continued exercise of our powers, 

5* 



54 



ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



either corporeal or mental : and, unless this sense of uneasiness have 
been produced by too inordinate exercise, it is soon relieved by 
that state of the system which we call sleep ; during the continuance 
of which, provided it be sound and of a perfectly healthy character, 
all the voluntary muscles of the body become relaxed, and the 
nervous system remains comparatively inactive ; the whole body 
acquiring by this temporary cessation of its energies a renovated 
accumulation of those powers, which are necessary for the pur- 
poses of active and intellectual life. 

In order to dispose us to yield to the sensation of approaching 
sleep, the periodical succession of night to day has been ordained 
by nature. For, with the approach of darkness cease all the usual 
stimuli of that sense, which is accommodated to the impulse of light, 
and which calls our faculties into action more frequently than any 
other : nor is the intention of nature less evident, because, either 
from avarice or the dissipation of luxury, some individuals protract 
the labours or the pleasures of the day beyond the natural period 
assigned for those purposes ; since these are unnatural exceptions 
to the observance of the general law. 

Although it would be difficult to prove directly that there is any 
necessary connexion between darkness and sleep, yet this connexion 
is rendered at least highly probable by the effect usually produced 
on the approach of darkness upon animals in general, but more 
remarkably on birds ; for, with the exception of those whose habits 
are nocturnal, all birds betake themselves to sleep as soon as night 
approaches : and if darkness should anticipate night by many hours, 
as happens when any considerable eclipse of the sun takes place in 
the middle of the day, we still find the birds of the field as well as 
our domesticated fowls give the same indications of composing 
themselves to sleep, as at the regular period of sunset. If it should 
be said that this does not more serve to prove a connexion between 
darkness and sleep with reference to these animals, than to prove 
the effect of a long continued association resulting from their habit 
of going to roost at sunset ; it may be asked, why should darkness, 
unless from some inherent cause, lead them to compose themselves 
to sleep at the hour of noon, instead of the usual hour of evening ; 
since, on the one hand, periodical states of the animal system do 
not usually recur before the termination of the habitual period ; and, 
on the other hand, the individuals cannot at so early an hour have 
experienced such a degree of exhaustion as would of itself invite to 
sleep ? 

In stating that the voluntary action of the muscles ceases during 
sound sleep, we ought not to omit the remarkable fact that those 
muscles which are not under the empire of the will continue their 
action uninterruptedly through the deepest sleep. Of all the muscles 
of involuntary motion, this observation holds most remarkably with 
respect to the heart ; the continued action of which organ during 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



55 



sleep is a phenomenon worthy of the deepest attention of a philoso- 
phical mind. All other organs of the body have their periods either 
of absolute or comparative rest ; the senses are in a measure 
periodically locked up by sleep during one quarter at least, if not 
one third of our whole existence ; the limbs of the most athletic in- 
dividual lose their power of motion after a few hours of unremitted 
exertion : even the brain, which during the hours of sleep and the 
interruption of all the common functions of the body frequently re- 
presents to the internal senses the most busy scenes of active life — 
even the brain may be exhausted by unusual fatigue, or other 
causes, and may thus involve the general system in the stupor of 
apparent death — but the heart, unless on such occasions as the mo- 
mentary interruption of a swoon, never rests: so that, whether we 
look back to that period of our existence, when, in our yet imper- 
fect state, there could scarcely be discovered the faint outline of 
those members, which in after life constitute mans strength and 
beauty, the presence of the heart may be recognised by the impulse 
of its vibratory motion, though its form is yet undefined, or at least 
indistinguishable ; or whether, on the other hand, we look forward 
to the latest moments of protracted disease, or expiring old age, the 
same organ is the last part of our frame which continues to give 
immediate proof of vital motion. 

The privation of light is rarely, if ever, total : for though the 
empire of time is divided in nearly equal proportion between day 
and night, there are comparatively few nights in which there is 
not diffused through the air a sufficient quantity of light for many 
of the purposes of life. Nor, with respect to those persons who 
either were born blind, or became blind in early infancy, is the ab- 
sence of light felt with any degree of severity ; for, in such instances, 
although the individual may be made to understand that he wants 
some faculty w r hich those around him possess, there cannot be how- 
ever any consciousness of privation where there never had been 
actually any enjoyment ; or where there was no recollection of it, 
if it had for a time existed. And even in the case of individuals 
who have been deprived of sight long subsequently to birth, although 
the recollection of the former enjoyment must more or less imbitter 
their present state ; yet so long as the offices of surrounding friends 
are the means of administering to their comfort, more especially 
if those offices are fulfilled with kindness, the mind soon becomes 
reconciled to the privation : for it is a fact, repeatedly observed, 
that blind persons under such circumstances are usually cheerful. 
Nor ought we to forget the compensation which nature affords to 
those who are deprived of sight, in the consequently quickened ac- 
tivity of some of the other senses. 

Let us however suppose for a moment that, all the faculties and 
recollections of man remaining unaltered, and the general processes 
of nature continuing, if possible, the same as they are now, the ex- 



56 



ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



istence of light were withdrawn from this earth : what would then 
be the condition of mankind 1 How could those occupations of life 
be pursued which are necessary for the supply of our simplest 
wants 1 Who in that case should yoke the ox to the plough, or 
sow the seed, or reap the harvest! but indeed under such a suppo- 
sition there would soon be neither seed for the ground, nor grain 
for food : for, if deprived of light, the character of vegetation is 
completely altered ; and its results, as far as general utility is con- 
cerned, destroyed. Or suppose, further, that these necessary sup- 
plies of life were no longer required, on account of some consequent 
alteration in our physical constitution ; or that they were procured 
for us by any unknown means ; yet, in all the higher enjoyments of 
our nature, how cheerless, how utterly miserable would be our situa- 
tion. Under such circumstances, wisdom would not only be 

"at one entrance quite shut out," 

but no other entrance could then be found for it ; for of the other 
senses, the only remaining inlets of knowledge with reference to an 
external world, there is not one, which, if unaided by sight, could 
be of any practical value. With respect indeed to our inward feelings, 
though we should, on the one hand, be spared, by the privation of 
light, the worse than corporeal pain of the averted eye of those who 
ought to meet us with gratitude and affection ; we should, on the 
other hand, lose the beams of filial or parental love ; of which 
even a momentary smile outweighs an age of pain. 

As in mathematical reasoning the truth of a proposition is some- 
times indirectly proved by showing that every process of proof but 
the one proposed would lead to an absurd conclusion : so, though the 
supposition of a general and total privation of light is on all probable 
grounds of reasoning inadmissible, it may yet serve to show us in- 
directly the value of the good we enjoy. But it is sufficient to have 
given a few instances of the necessary effects of such a privation : 
and it will be a more grateful task to enumerate the actual benefits 
which we derive from the agency of light. 

In the vegetable world, upon the products of which animal ex- 
istence ultimately depends, light is the prime mover of every change 
that takes place, from the moment the germ emerges from the soil. 
Exclude the agency of light, and in a short time the most experi- 
enced botanist might possibly be at a loss to know the plant with 
which he is otherwise most familiar ; so completely obliterated are 
all its natural characters, whether of colour, form, taste, or odour. 
Thus the faded colour of the interior leaves of the lettuce and other 
culinary vegetables is the result of such a degree of compression of 
the body of the plant as excludes the admission of light beyond the 
exterior leaves. And, again, if a branch of ivy or of any spreading 
plant happen to penetrate during the progress of its vegetation into 
a dark cellar, or any similar subterraneous situation, it is observable,, 
that, with the total loss of colour, its growth advances with great 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



57 



rapidity but its proportions alter to such a degree as often to mask 
its original form. And, lastly, which in a practical point of view is 
of the greatest importance, if a plant which has grown without the 
influence of light be chemically examined, its juices, it might almost 
be said its whole substance, would be found to consist of little else 
than mere water; and, whatever odour it may have, is charac- 
teristic, not of its original nature, but of its unnatural mode of 
growth ; becoming, in short, very like that of a common fungus. 
The total result is, that all the native beauties and uses of a vegeta- 
ble growing under these circumstances are lost : the eye is neither 
delighted by any variety or brightness of colour ; nor is the sense 
of smell gratified by any fragrance: the degeneracy of its fibre into 
a mere pulp renders it unfit for any mechanical purpose ; and the 
resinous and other principles on which its nutritive and medicinal 
virtues depend, cease to be developed. In some instances, however, 
the bleaching or etiolation of plants is useful in correcting the acrid 
taste which belongs to them in their natural state ; as in the case of 
endive and of celery. 

The effect of light upon vegetation has been selected in the pre- 
ceding paragraph as affording the most powerful instance of the 
adaptation of this natural agent to the physical condition of man. 
Its effects upon individuals of the mineral and animal kingdom are 
neither so easily to be traced, nor are nearly so important in their 
consequences, at least in a practical point of view ; and therefore it 
is not proposed to bring them forward in a more particular manner. 

The observation of those modifications which light undergoes 
when reflected from the surfaces of bodies has given rise to one of 
those impressive arts which are capable of contributing no less to 
the refinement of society at large, than to the gratification of the in- 
dividuals who cultivate or admire them. For who can look on the 
productions of such masters as Guido, Raphael, or Michael Angelo, 
without imbibing a portion of the spirit which animated those mas- 
ters in the execution of their inimitable works'? or, if we quit the re- 
gions of imagination and of history, and descend from the higher 
efforts of the art into the retirement of domestic life, who can suc- 
cessfully describe those emotions which are excited by the portrait 
of a beloved object, a child or parent now no more; or by the re- 
presentation of that home and its surrounding scenery, in which the 
careless and happy hours of childhood were passed 1 

The intrinsic source of the pleasure which we experience from the 
contemplation of a painting is probably to be sought for in that prin- 
ciple of our nature, of more extensive influence perhaps than is gene- 
rally supposed, which derives a gratification from perceiving the 
resemblance of actual or probable truth ; or even, and sometimes m 
a higher degree, from the delineation of fictitious characters and 
scenes : and hence the art of painting is easily made the vehicle of 
the ludicrous and the horrible, no less than of the sublime and the 



58 



ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



beautiful : and, hence also, the painter, may incur a considerable 
degree of moral responsibility in the exercise of his art. But. this 
view of the subject, though fertile in reflections of great moment, and 
practically too much neglected, does not belong to the purpose of 
the present treatise. 

Section III. 
Heat 

From the consideration of the subject of light, the mind passes by 
a natural transition to that of heat : for these agents, though not 
necessarily or always, are in reality very often associated together I 
and they are each of them characterised by the want of that pro- 
perty which almost seems essential to matter, namely weight. In 
their relation to the physical existence of man and animal life in 
general, there is this difference between them — the presence of light 
is only indirectly necessary ; the presence of heat is directly neces- 
sary. Different degrees of heat indeed are requisite for different 
species of animals : but if the heat to which any individual animal 
be exposed be much below that which is natural to the species, and 
be continued for a sufficient length of time, all the vital functions are 
eventually destroyed ; or, as in the case of the hibernation of parti- 
cular species of animals, are at least partially suspended. 

The degree of heat adapted to the human frame is so nicely ad- 
justed to the bodily feelings of man, that, if we take a range of fifty 
degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer as indicating the average extent 
of variation to which the body is exposed in this climate, it will be 
found that a difference of two or three degrees, above or below a 
given point, will generally be sufficient to create an uncomfortable 
sensation. The late Mr. Walker, whose experiments on the artificial 
production of cold are well known to the philosophical world, ascer- 
tained that the point of 62° or 63° of Fahrenheit is that, which, upon 
an average of many individuals, is in this climate the most cogenial, 
as far as sensation is concerned, to the human body. But it is a 
merciful provision of nature, considering the numerous vicissitudes 
of human life, that man is capable of resisting very great and even 
sudden alterations of temperature without any serious inconvenience. 
Thus an atmosphere so cold, as to depress the mercury in Fahren- 
heit's thermometer to the 52d degree below the freezing point of 
water, has been borne under the protection of very moderate 
clothing. And, on the other hand, an atmosphere of a temperature 
as high as the 200th degree of Fahrenheit, which is within a few 
degrees of the boiling point of water, was borne by the late Dr. 
Fordyce, during ten minutes.* And it is highly worthy of notice, as 

* Phil. Trans. 1775. vol. lxv. p. 117. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



59 



connected with the general intention of this Treatise, that, during the 
same time, a thermometer which had been fixed under his tongue 
indicated only the 98th degree of Fahrenheit :* so that the body re- 
mained very nearly of its natural temperature, during its exposure 
to an atmosphere exceeding its own temperature by full 100 degrees.f 

This uniformity of animal temperature, under such circumstances, 
is in a great measure owing to the process of evaporation, which 
takes place from the general surface of the body, and from the air- 
vessels of the lungs : for if animals are confined in a chamber, the 
atmosphere of which is so moist that no evaporation can take place 
from the surface of their bodies, it has been found that their tempe- 
rature is as capable of being steadily and uniformly raised, by in- 
creasing the heat of the room in which they are placed, as if they 
were inanimate matter. 

The application of heat to the various purposes of life has a very 
extensive range ; and with reference to the daily preparation of the 
more common forms of our food, whether animal or vegetable, dis- 
tinguishes the habits of man from those of every other species. 
Without the power indeed of commanding the application of heat in 
its various degrees, many of the most important arts of civilized so- 
ciety would fail. 

Without that power, how could clay be hardened into the state of 
brick, of which material most of the habitations in many large cities 
are constructed? Without the aid of the same agent, how could 
quicklime, the base of every common cement, be produced from lime- 
stone 1 Without the application of the higher degrees of heat, metals 
could neither be reduced from their ores, nor the reduced metals be 
worked into convenient forms. Neither, without the same aid, could 
that most useful substance glass be produced ; a material, which in- 
comparison hardly known to the ancients, has in modern times, be 
come almost indispensably necessary to persons of the poorest class, 
as a substance of daily use for various economical purposes. But if 
we consider the properties of this valuable compound, with reference 
to the aid derived from it in the investigations of science, there are few 
substances of higher importance to the philosopher. Among the 
most useful of those properties are its impermeability to fluids, either 
in a liquid or aeriform state ; its ready permeability to light, together 
with its power of modifying the qualities of that fluid ; and its resis- 
tance to almost all those chemical agents, which are capable of de- 
stroying the texture of most other substances with which they remain 
long in contact 

In considering the extensive utility of the thermometer, and baro- 
meter, in their common and most convenient forms, it is evident that 

♦Ibid. p. 118. 

f For an account of similar experiments carried to a further extent, see p. 484, 
&c. of the same volume of the Phil. Trans. 



60 



ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



their practical value almost entirely depends on the transparency of 
glass, and on its impermeability to air : for if the glass, of which they 
are made, were opaque, the variations in the level of the quicksilver 
contained within them would be imperceptible to the eye ; and could 
not be indirectly ascertained, unless by very circuitous and difficult 
means : and, on the other hand, if the glass were permeable to air, 
the variation in the level of the quicksilver, in the case of the barome- 
ter at least, would necessarily be prevented. The same properties of 
transparency and impermeability to air very greatly enhance, if they 
do not solely constitute the value of glass, in all those philosophical 
experiments which are carried on under what is called the exhausted 
receiver. 

But the most important result of the transparency of glass is 
the modification which light undergoes in its passage through lenti- 
cular masses of that material. When, for instance, in consequence 
of disease or advancing age, the eye no longer retains the power of 
discerning objects distinctly, how much of hourly comfort, as well as 
of intellectual enjoyment, would be lost, were we not able to supply 
the natural defect by the artificial aid of glasses of the requisite form 
and density. And, again, how many important facts in the physio- 
logy of animals and vegetables, as also in the constitution of inani- 
mate bodies, would have remained forever undiscovered, but for the 
aid of the microscope ; the magnifying powers of which depend on 
the transparency, and form, and the right adjustment of those pieces 
of glass through which the objects subjected to observation are 
viewed ? 

And, lastly, how shall we estimate the value of those discoveries, 
to say nothing of the constantly accumulating mass of observations 
connected with them, which the world owes to that wonderful instru- 
ment the telescope ? By the aid of which not only has the knowledge 
of our own sidereal system been extended, in consequence of the dis- 
covery of new planets belonging to it ; but it seems to have been ren- 
dered highly probable that those obscurely defined luminous masses, 
which Sir William Herschel termed nebulce, observable within the 
limits of individual constellations, are really the accumulated light of 
innumerable stars seen through the medium of a space hitherto im- 
measurable : and that the milky way itsely is an extended accumula- 
tion of similar nebulae ; the collected light of which, at some incon- 
ceivable point of distance, may appear to the inhabitants of still more 
distant spheres, as a mere speck. Dare the mind attempt to penetrate 
beyond this general statement, and to speculate upon the characters of 
its detail ? What if there be a resemblance, or even an analogy, be- 
tween the structure and inhabitants of this earth and of the other 
planets of our system ? What if every fixed star which we either see 
with the naked eye or by the aid of the telescope, or whose existence 
we can conceive on probable grounds by the mind's eye, be itself the 
centre of a system consisting, like our own, of numerous subordinate 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



CI 



spheres, and every one of these inhabited by responsible agents, like 
ourselves ; to whose uses both inorganic elements and animals and 
vegetables, analogous if not similar to our own, maybe subservient? 
What if the moral history and state of the inhabitants of those num- 
berless spheres be like that of man ? — But the view, which the inves- 
tigation of this question seems capable of unfolding, is too awful for 
the eye of reason ; and, however its discussion might magnify our 
conviction of the infinite power and goodness of the Creator, is not 
to be approached perhaps without culpable presumption. 

Let us therefore return to considerations more appropriate to the 
character of human knowledge : and, having referred to the effects 
produced by heat on various forms of matter, let us inquire what faci- 
lities nature has placed within our reach for the purpose of exciting 
and maintaining heat itself. The chemist in his laboratory, sur- 
rounded by the numerous and various agents which he is constantly 
employing, can never have any difficulty in producing the vestal ele- 
ment. By concentration of the sun's rays he may inflame any com- 
bustible substance : by compression of common air in a small cylin- 
der of glass, or metal, he may ignite a piece of fungus, or inflame a 
piece of phosphorus, attached to the extremity of the piston which is 
employed to compress the air. He may instantaneously produce flame 
by pouring concentrated nitric acid on oil of turpentine, or on certain 
saline compounds; by the simple trituration of phosphorus, or other 
chemical agents ; by directing a small stream of inflammable air on 
minute particles of platina loosely aggregated in a state somewhat 
resembling sponge ; or, not to accumulate too many instances, he 
may delight himself for the thousandth time by igniting a fine wire 
of steel, in passing the electric current along it by means of the Vol- 
taic apparatus.* 

There are few individuals however who have commonly such 
magic instruments at hand : and, even if they had, it is probable that 

* It will not perhaps be deemed impertinent, to relate an instance of the sagacity 
of the late Dr. Wollaston, in connexion with the present subject. It happened to 
the author of this Treatise, at a comparatively early period of his life, to deliver a 
letter of introduction to Dr. Wollaston at a moment when that philosopher was en- 
gaged in conducting an electric current, by means of the Voltaic apparatus, through 
three portions of fine steel wire, different from each other in diameter. With that 
vivacity of manner, which in him resulted rather from the simple consciousness of 
the acquisition of truth, than from the ignoble trumph of individual superiority, he 
asked which of those wires would first become of a red heat ; and being answered, 
at a hazard rather than from any reasonable ground of conjecture, that the red 
heat would perhaps first take place in the thickest of the three — " I expect it will," 
he said, " and that the finest wire will never reach a red heat ; for I conclude that, 
from its extreme fineness, the heat excited in it will be dissipated by radiation so 
rapidly, as to prevent the accumulation of a quantity sufficient for its ignition." It 
need hardly be added that the conjecture was verified. 

As an instance of the minute scale on which Dr. Wollaston was in the habit of 
carrying on his philosophical investigations, it may he mentioned that the preced- 
ing experiment was conducted in a single cell of a single and moderately sized Vol- 
taic trough. 

6 



62 



ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



they would want both the leisure and inclination to preserve them in 
a state fitted to produce at any moment the intended effect ; for, 
though each successive year has of late given birth to some new 
form of apparatus calculated to produce instantaneous light, we find 
ourselves constantly recurring to the flint and steel, which our fore- 
fathers of many generations have used ; and which will doubtless be 
the staple apparatus of our latest posterity. 

The more important part of the present inquiry remains to be con- 
sidered, the means namely of maintaining heat, when once excited, 
to a sufficient extent and degree of intensity for the various purposes 
of social and civilized life. To this important purpose, among others, 
the products of the vegetable world, both in a fossil and recent state, 
are destined ; and in examining the origin and general history of 
some of these products, particularly with reference to common coal, 
we shall meet with an interesting example of those provisions of na- 
ture which Dr. Paley has denominated prospective contrivances. 

In the early periods of civilization, and while the population of a 
country bears a small proportion to the extent of soil occupied, the 
indigenous forests easily supply an ample quantity of fuel : or in the 
absence of those larger species of the vegetable kingdom which may 
be described under the term of timber, the humblest productions of 
the morass, though not the most desirable, are however a sufficient 
substitute. Thus the sphagnum palustre and other mosses, by their 
successive growth and decay, form the combustible substratum of 
those extensive and at present uncultivated tracts in Ireland, which, 
till they shall have happily been reclaimed by the industry of a yet 
barbarous population, contribute by the turf and the peat which they 
afford, to the comfort of myriads of individuals ; who, were it not for 
this source of supply, would be, in their present state, in total want of 
one of the principal necessaries of life. 

In many populous districts of this island, the aboriginal forests, 
which formerly so amply supplied the surrounding inhabitants, have 
long since been cleared from the surface of the earth : and their site 
is now occupied by cultivated lands and a condensed population. 
The former source of fuel has consequently in such parts long since 
failed: but the clearing of the surface has in many places detected 
that invaluable mineral combustible, which, usually bearing in itself 
indubitable marks of a vegetable origin, from the traces of organi- 
zation still apparent in almost every part of its substance, was de- 
posited ages before it was wanted, as a future substitute for the fuel 
which in the meantime has been derived from the actually existing 
vegetable kingdom. 

It is not intended here to enter into the general consideration of 
those geological formations called coal fields, which are the reposi- 
tories of this useful mineral : but there is one circumstance in their 
history so evidently calculated to facilitate the labour of man in ob- 
taining this substance, and to extend its supply, and so remarkably 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN". 



63 



though not exclusively characteristic of those particular formations, 
that though not obvious to a general observer, it cannot fail to arrest 
the attention of those to whom it is pointed out. A coal field may be 
represented, in a popular description, as consisting of a succession of 
alternating strata of coal and sand-stone, &c. : which, having been 
originally deposited in a basin-shaped cavity, in such a manner as to 
be at the same time parallel to the concave surface of the basin and 
to each other, have been subsequently broken up by some force that 
has thrown the planes of the ruptured masses into various directions. 
Now, had the strata remained undisturbed, a very considerable pro- 
portion of the coal which is now quarried would most probably never 
have been obtained by human industry : for, the strata dipping down 
from the circumference towards the centre of the basin, that perpen- 
dicular depth, beyond which it is practically impossible to work the 
coal, would soon have been reached in the operation of mining. But, 
in consequence of the rupture and consequent dislocation of the 
strata, many of those portions which were originally deposited at 
such a depth beneath the surface as would have rendered the work- 
ing of them impossible, have been thrown up to the very surface ; 
and thus have become available to the miner. 



Section IV. 

The general Uses of Water. 

One of the earliest political punishments of ancient Rome affords 
an indirect but very remarkable proof, of the immediate importance 
of the elements of fire and water* to human life : for this punish- 
ment consisting, in part, in an interdiction from the use of water, 
compelled the individual so punished to fly from his native neigh- 
bourhood, in order to obtain that necessary article of support else- 
where : and, hence, banishment and interdiction from fire and water 
became synonymous terms. There are few who have not expe- 
rienced the uneasy sensation occasioned by even a temporary pri- 
vation of this necessary : and the death that ensues upon a continued 
privation of it is, perhaps, of all modes of death the most dreadful. 
This we learn from the occasional accounts of individuals who have 
escaped from shipwrecks, in which their companions had perished 

* An apology will hardly be required for applying- the term element to a sub- 
stance, which though it has long been experimentally ascertained to be a com- 
pound, will in a popular view be always considered as a simple body ; especially 
if it be remembered that even among the ancients this term did not necessarily im- 
ply that the substance so called was absolutely a simple or uncompounded body. 
It was sufficient with them, that, in all the known processes and phenomena of 
nature, the substance presented itself under the same essential form : but they 
were prepared to allow that elementary bodies (Wo^s?*) might possibly be re- 
solved into absolutely simple principles (a/>;t*i). 



64 



ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



amidst the agonies of thirst. And it is said of those unhappy vic- 
tims of a barbarous punishment, in Persia, (who being immured in 
masonry, as to every part of their body but the head, are left to 
perish in that state,) that they terminate their last hours, perhaps 
days, in incessant cries for water. 

The necessity of this element for our support may be antecedently 
inferred, on philosophical principles, from the examination of the 
physical composition of any animal body ; of which, in by far the 
greater number of instances, more than three-fourths of the whole 
weight are due to the presence of water. This water of compo- 
sition may be easily separated by the application of a moderate 
degree of heat, or even by spontaneous evaporation at a common 
temperature, without any further decomposition of the body ; the 
muscles and skin consequently shrinking to such an extent, so as to 
give the whole frame the appearance of a skeleton, enveloped, as it 
were, in parchment. Such a result is occasionally observable in 
human bodies which have been deposited in dry cemeteries; and is 
by no means uncommon in the case of small animals, as rats, for 
instance, which having been accidentally wedged in between a 
wall and a wainscot, are subsequently found in the state above de- 
scribed. 

An experiment of a very simple character in itself, and very 
easily made, will serve to ascertain, not only the proportional quan- 
tity of water of composition contained in some forms of animal 
matter, but also the properties communicated by the presence of that 
element thus combined. Every one has noticed the opaline or 
milky appearance and the remarkable elasticity of cartilage, or 
gristle, as it is more commonly called : which characters depend 
on the water contained in it ; for if a piece of gristle, the weight of 
which has been previously ascertained, be exposed to the air of a 
warm room, it will at the end of a few hours have lost a portion of 
its weight ; and will have become nearly transparent, and entirely 
inelastic : and if, in this state, it be immersed in water, it will gra- 
dually recover its original weight, and also its elasticity and opaline 
appearance. If, instead of gristle, a piece of boiled white of egg 
be employed, the same results will be observable ; for, together 
with loss of weight and elasticity, it will become brittle, and nearly 
as transparent as pure amber : and on the other hand, by subsequent, 
immersion in water, its original properties will be soon restored. 
By experiments nearly as simple as those above-mentioned it may 
be demonstrated, that all the liquid and solid parts of an animal, 
with some few exceptions, contain or consist of more than three- 
fourths of their weight of water : the importance of which element 
in the mere composition of our body is hence directly evident. 

But if we would have a familiar illustration of its importance in 
the daily and hourly occurrences of life, let us in imagination ac- 
company an individual of moderate rank and condition in society, 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



65 



from the time of his rising in the morning till the hour of sleep at 
night, in order to observe the utility of water in administering either 
directly or indirectly to his various wants and habits. How great 
is the comfort, to say nothing of the salubrity of the practice, which 
results to him from the application of water to the surface of the 
body, by means either of the bath or any simpler process ! and, 
again, the change in the linen in which he is partially clothed is 
rendered equally comfortable and salutary, in consequence of its 
having been previously submitted to the process of washing. The 
infusion of coffee or of tea, which is probably an essential part of 
his earliest meal, could not have been prepared without water : 
neither could the flour of which his bread consists, have been 
kneaded ; nor the food of his subsequent meal, the broths and most 
of the vegetables at least, have been rendered digestible, without the 
aid of the same fluid; and with respect to his common beverage, 
whether milk, or any form of fermented liquor, water still constitutes 
the main bulk of that beverage. 

So far the use of water is directly and immediately necessary to 
his comfort and subsistence : but its indirect and remote necessity 
is equally observable in all that surrounds him. There is scarcely 
an article of his apparel, in some part of the preparation of which 
w 7 ater has not been necessarily employed ; in the tanning of the 
leather of his shoes ; in the dressing of the flax of which his linen 
is made ; in the dyeing of the wool of his coat, or of the materials 
of his hat. Without water the china or earthen cups, out of which 
he drinks, could not have been turned on the lathe ; nor the bricks^ 
of which his house is constructed, nor the mortar by which they are 
cemented, have been formed. The ink with which he writes, and 
the paper which receives it, could not have been made without the 
use of water. The knife with which he divides his solid food, and 
the spoon with which he conveys it when in a liquid form to his 
mouth, could not have been, or at least have not prohably been 
formed, without the application of water during some part of the 
process of making them. 

By water the medical principles of various vegetable and mineral 
substances are extracted, and rendered potable ; which could not be 
introduced into the animal system in a solid state : and this element 
itself becomes occasionally a most powerful medicinal instrument 
by its external application, in every one of its forms ; whether as a 
liquid, under the name of the cold or warm bath; or in the form 
of ice, in restraining internal inflammation and hemorrhage ; or in the 
state of steam, as in the application of the vapour bath. 



6* 



66 



ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



Section V. 
Baths. 

The custom of bathing, whether in a medium of a high or of a 
low temperature, appears to be in a great measure derived from 
the gratification of a natural feeling : for we find it prevalent in 
every country and in every stage of society, not only with reference 
to its medicinal effects, but as a mere luxury. Thus at every 
season of the year, when the sky is serene at least, the inhabitants 
of hot climates plunge into their native streams for the sake of the 
refreshment imparted to the surface of their bodies ; and the same 
refreshment is equally sought by the natives of colder climates 
during the heat of their short summer: in each of which instances 
the pleasurable sensation is the principal motive for the practice. 
But on some occasions a more permanent good is sought; and 
the hope of immediate pleasure is so far from being the motive 
that a sensation very nearly allied to pain, and in many instances 
Jess tolerable than pain itself, is encountered in the shock of the 
cold bath, with a view to the preservation or restoration of health. 
It may be said perhaps that the glow of warmth which usually 
succeeds this shock is in itself a pleasure ; as indeed it is : but it 
may be presumed that very few individuals experience any pleasure 
from the shock itself, or would consent to encounter it but for its 
pleasurable and beneficial consequences. 

For the enjoyment of the cold bath nature affords the immediate 
resource of springs and rivers, in almost every part of the world ; 
but the enjoyment of the warm bath is in general not easily attaina- 
ble ; warm springs being comparatively of rare occurrence : the 
pleasure of the warm bath however is so congenial to man's feelings, 
that it is sought for hy savages as well as by the inhabitants of the 
most luxurious cities ; and is as acceptable in tropical as in cold 
climates. 

It is at all times interesting to contemplate the expedients which 
human ingenuity discovers for the accomplishment of its purposes : 
but such a contemplation is more particularly interesting when it 
developes the revival of a principle, the knowledge of which had 
been buried during many centuries of intervening ignorance; and 
thus justifies the reflection of moral wisdom : 

*' Multa renascentur, quze jam ceeidere." 

" The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be ; and that which 
is done is that which shall be done : and there is no new thing under 
the sun." 

In a most amusing and instructive account of Pompeii, which 
forms one of the volumes published under the name of the Library 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN". 



67 



of Entertaining Knowledge, is a dissertation on the Baths of the 
Ancients ; which will amply repay, by the information it conveys, 
the time occupied in its perusal. In that dissertation is contained a 
description of the remains of some public baths, discovered in the 
excavations of Pompeii : and with reference to the disposition of 
the furnace of the baths, a fact is stated, which is peculiarly applica- 
ble to our present purpose. 

It is evident that, in consequence of the enormous quantity of 
water which was daily heated in their public baths, the attention 
of the ancients must necessarily have been directed to the most 
economical mode of applying the fuel by which the heat of the fur- 
nace was maintained : and the following extract from the* above 
mentioned account of Pompeii will show that, even in a small town 
of ancient Italy, an economical principle was well understood and 
applied eighteen centuries since, which has only been of late revived 
in modern science. It is stated in that account (p. 152), that "close 
to the furnace, at the distance of four inches, a round vacant space 
still remains, in which was placed the copper for boiling water 
(caldarium) ; near which, with the same interval between them, 
was placed the copper for warm water (tepidarium); and at the 
distance of two feet from this was the receptacle for cold water 
(frigidarium). A constant communication was maintained between 
these vessels; so that as fast as hot w T ater was drawn off from the 
caldarium, the void was supplied from the tepidarium, which, being 
already considerably heated, did but slightly reduce the temperature 
of the hotter boiler. The tepidarium in its turn was supplied from 
a general reservoir: so that the heat which was not taken up by 
the first boiler passed on to the second ; and, instead of being 
wasted, did its office in preparing the contents of the second for the 
higher temperature which it was to obtain in the first. It is but 
lately that this principle has been introduced into modern furnaces ; 
but its use in reducing the consumption of fuel is w r ell known." 

In the same account of Pompeii is afforded a striking instance, 
with reference to the vapour bath, not only of the similarity of the 
means employed for producing a similar effect, by individuals 
between whom no communication can be traced or even supposed; 
but also a similarity of custom, with reference to the enjoyment of 
social intercourse, between communities not less widely separated 
from each other by time and space, than by degree of civilization ; 
between the luxurious inhabitants of imperial Rome eighteen centu- 
ries ago, and the savage tribes of North-western America at the 
present day. The author of the account of Pompeii states (p. 187 
— 190,) on the authority of Tooke's Russia, " that the Russian baths, 
as used by the common people, bear a close resemblance to the va- 
pour bath (laconicum) of the Romans. They usually consist of 
w T ooden houses, situated, if possible, by the side of a running stream. 
In the bath-room is a large vaulted oven, which, when heated, makes 



68 



ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



the paving stones lying upon it red hot ; and adjoining to the oven 
is a kettle fixed in masonry for the purpose of holding boiling water. 
In those parts of the country where wood is scarce, the baths some- 
times consist of wretched caverns, commonly dug in the earth close 
to the bank of some river. The heat in the bath-room is usually 
from 104° to 122° of Fahrenheit; and may be much increased by 
throwing water on the glowing hot stones in the chamber of the 
oven. The Russian baths therefore are vapour-baths ; and it appears 
that even the savage tribes of America are not wholly unacquainted 
with the use of the vapour-bath. Lewis and Clarke, in their voyage 
up the Missouri, have described one of these in the following terms : 
4 We observed a vapour-bath, consisting of a hollow square of six or 
eight feet deep, formed in the river bank by damming up with mud 
the other three sides, and covering the whole completely, except an 
aperture about two feet wide at the top. The bathers descend by 
this hole, taking with them a number of heated stones, and jugs of 
water; and, after being seated round the room, throw the water on 
the stones till the steam becomes of a temperature sufficiently high 
for their purposes.' "* 

It appears then, from the foregoing statement, that the peasants of 
Russia, and the savages of North America, are in the habit of em- 
ploying the same means for converting water into vapour, which 
were employed by the Romans at the most luxurious period in their 
history : and to the peasants of Russia and the savages of North Ame- 
rica, may be added the natives of New Zealand and other islands of 
the Pacific ocean ; merely with this qualification, that they employ 
the steam, so raised, not for the purpose of a vapour-bath, but of 
dressing their food. 

It is worthy of notice, as illustrative of the social feeling inherent 
in human nature, that, equally among the uncivilized natives of Ame- 
rica as among the luxurious inhabitants of ancient Italy, "it is very 
uncommon for an individual to bathe alone; he is generally accom- 
panied by one, or sometimes several, of his acquaintance : bathing 
indeed is so essentially a social amusement, that to decline going in 
to bathe, when invited by a friend, is one of the highest indignities 
that can be offered to him." (p. 190.) 



Section VI. 
The Fluidity of Water. 

Familiarized as we are to the consequences resulting from that 
property of water, whereby its particles move so easily among them- 

* Sauer, in his account of Billings' expedition, describes the same kind of bath 
as used in north-western America (p. 175.) 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



69 



selves as to yield to the least impulse, provided there be space for 
yielding, we rarely perhaps meditate on its importance: and yet it 
is entirely owing to this property that a free communication is capa- 
ble of being maintained between distant parts of the world by means 
of the ocean at large, and between different parts of the same coun- 
try by means of navigable rivers ; or by those more than rivals of 
navigable rivers, artificial canals.* 

Rarely also, perhaps, do we meditate on the equally important 
fact, that, throughout the greater part of the world this element 
usually exists in a liquid state : and important indeed is that fact ; for, 
of the three states under which it is capable of existing, namely of 
ice, water, and vapour, if its predominant state had been that of ice 
or of vapour, philosophers might possibly have conjectured, but the 
world could never have seen realized, the mighty results of commerce 
as depending on the art of navigation. 

From the same physical character of water, above described, 
namely its fluidity, manifesting itself actively instead of passively, 
are daily produced results of equal importance to society, and 
equally surprising in themselves. Who indeed can adequately de- 
scribe the advantages derived from water in aiding the powers 
of mechanism, from the half-decayed and moss-grown wheel that 
scarcely sets in motion the grinding-stone of the village mill, to the 
astonishing momentum of the steam engine which kneads a hundred 
tons of heated iron with as much ease as the hands of the potter 
knead a lump of clay ! 

And here, since it is of the utmost importance to mankind that 
this element should usually exist in a liquid state, let us pause a while 
to investigate the means employed by nature to prevent its rapid 
conversion either into vapour or into ice. For although its partial 
existence in both those states is perhaps eventually as necessary to 
the general good of the world as its more common state of water, 
yet, if its sudden or rapid conversion into either were not prevented, 
great temporary evil would necessarily ensue from our privation of 
it as a liquid. 

It has been already mentioned that the atmosphere constantly 
holds in solution or suspension a great body of water, in a state of 
minute division: but the quantity that can be carried up into the at- 
mosphere by the process of evaporation is limited in two ways ; first, 
by the air's incapability of holding in suspension more than a certain 
proportion ; and secondly, by the restraining effect of the pressure 
of the atmosphere. But the rapid evaporation of water is also pre- 
vented by the comparatively low temperature at which all its natural 
forms exist, even in tropical latitudes. 

* It has been stated, on credible authority, that an agent of a great proprietor of 
canals being- incidentally asked, during a legal examination, for what purpose he 
conceived rivers had been made, answered, "that, no doubt, they were intended to 
feed canals." 



70 



ADAPTATION" OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



The prevention of the sudden conversion of water into ice depends 
on a peculiarity in its physical constitution, which is no less remark- 
able in a simply philosophical point of view, than beneficial in its 
result to the great bulk of mankind. Water, in common with all 
other forms of matter, is gradually contracted in ifs volume by a 
dimunition of its temperature; and ultimately passes into a solid 
state. It does not however continue to be condensed to the moment 
of its congelation, but only to a certain degree of temperature ; from 
whence it begins to expand ; and continues to expand till it arrives 
at the point of congelation. 

In this deviation from a general law we find a very beneficial ac- 
commodation to the wants of man: for had it been the property of 
water to become more and more condensed as it approached the 
point of congelation, one of the consequences would have been that 
lakes and rivers, instead of becoming gradually frozen from the sur- 
face towards their bed, would almost in a moment have become one 
solid mass of ice : and the evil that would be produced by such an 
effect may be conjectured, by considering that whenever a long pro- 
tracted and severe frost has thickened to an unusual extent the super- 
incumbent stratum of ice, the difficulty of breaking through the stra- 
tum, in order to arrive at the water beneath, is proportionally in- 
creased, and sometimes becomes practically insuperable. 

It will be interesting to trace the steps by which this providential 
law of nature is manifested : and the whole process is easily ren- 
dered intelligible to any one who will simply bear in mind these three 
points, namely, that the average temperature of lakes and rivers is dur- 
ing the heat of summer more or less above the 40th degree of Fahren- 
heit's scale ; that water itself at about the 40th degree is of its greatest 
density ; and that under all common circumstances it freezes, or be- 
comes solid, at the 32d degree. If we suppose then the temperature of 
a pool or lake to equal at any given moment the 50th degree of Fah- 
renheit; and a gradual reduction of its temperature to take place 
from that moment by the effect of a constantly diminishing tempera- 
ture of the air ; under such circumstances the following phenomena 
would occur. The particles of the water at the surface becoming 
more condensed, that is heavier, as they become cooler, would sink 
towards the bottom, and be replaced by the hitherto subjacent par- 
ticles ; which in their turn, undergoing a similar decrease in their 
temperature and condensation, would consequently subside towards 
the bottom ; till at length the whole mass of water had arrived at the 
temperature of about 40°. From this point any progressive decrease 
of temperature would have an expansive effect upon the particles of 
water near the surface ; which, being thus rendered relatively lighter 
than the particles of the subjacent mass, would not subside ; but, re- 
maining on the surface, would continue to be expanded and made 
still lighter till they had reached the temperature of 32° ; at which 
degree, under ordinary circumstances, they would freeze. But the 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION" OF MAN. 



71 



coat of ice thus formed would be, in some measure, a barrier to the 
effect of the colder atmosphere upon the bulk of the water beneath ; 
which consequently would remain for a comparatively longer time 
in a liquid state ; and would be easily procured for general purposes, 
by making partial openings through the frozen surface. Now if the 
density of water continued to increase in a regular progression to the 
moment of congelation, it would necessarily happen, from the sinking 
of the particles gradually thus condensed, that at some given moment 
the temperature of the whole mass, still in a liquid state, would have 
arrived at the freezing point; and consequently the whole mass 
would have been frozen, or become solid, at the same moment. The 
possibility of such a simultaneous congelation is not merely a philo- 
sophical deduction, it sometimes actually occurs. Thus, under cer- 
tain circumstances, particularly if kept entirely free from agitation, 
water, still retaining its liquid form, may be cooled down to a point 
several degrees below that of congelation ; when, upon a slight agi- 
tation, the whole mass is converted at once into the state of ice. 



Section VII. 
The natural Sources of Water. 

For the supply of a substance of such immediate necessity to the 
very existence of man, and of such extensive utility in promoting his 
comforts, nature has provided the amplest means ; all however ulti- 
mately derived from that mass of water which has been carried up 
into the atmosphere by evaporation from the sea : so that if that 
evaporation were to fail, all forms of animal and vegetable matter, 
with the exception of those which belong to the ocean itself, would 
soon perish ; for under such circumstances the earth would be 
deprived of those seasonable showers, without which its vegetable 
productions could not be sustained ; and every spring would soon fail, 
and every river be dried up : for rivers are in most instances formed 
by the progressive accumulation of various torrents ; and these 
are produced by that portion of rain which, having fallen upon the 
ridges and inclined surfaces of hills and mountains, descends more 
rapidly than the soil can absorb it : and springs result, in a manner 
that will be hereafter mentioned, from the accumulation of that por- 
tion of the rain which sinks beneath the surface on which it has fallen. 
But it is evident that if the vegetable world were to perish, the animal 
world could not long survive. 

Nor are the laws by which the moisture, contained in the atmo- 
sphere, is precipitated from it in dews or rain, among the least adr 
mirable instances of the provision made by nature for a constant sup- 
ply of the wants of man. 

The mechanism, if the term be allowable, by which the formation 



72 ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 

of clouds and the occasional descent of rain are regulated, resides 
in the variableness of the state of the heat and electricity of the at- 
mosphere : in consequence of which a given mass of air is incapable 
of retaining, in solution or suspension, the same quantity of moisture 
which it d?d before; and hence that moisture is precipitated in the 
form of dews and fogs ; or, being previously condensed into accu- 
mulated masses of clouds, is discharged from those clouds in the form 
of rain. 

It almost seems puerile to illustrate the adaptation of the present 
laws and order of nature to the wants of man, by the supposition of 
the consequences that would ensue from a failure of those laws ; and 
yet, as in actual life we often feel not the value of the good which 
we possess, till admonished by the prospect of its loss ; so, with refer- 
ence to the constitution of nature, we may more forcibly be impressed 
with the conviction of its general harmony and subserviency to our 
wants, by the supposition of its being different from what it is, than 
by the direct contemplation of its actual state. In supposing then 
that means had not been provided for the regular discharge of por- 
tions of that mass of water which has been carried up into the at- 
mosphere by the process of evaporation, the existence of that mass 
would have been of little avail to man : for mere contact of an atmo- 
sphere, however moist, could not promote vegetation to any useful 
extent ;* and the formation of springs and rivers would be as effectu- 
ally prevented by rain ceasing to fall from the atmosphere, as if the 
material of the rain itself did not exist in it. 

Of the modes in which nature disposes of the rain that has fallen 
on the earth, and of the formation of natural springs and rivers, more 
particular notice will be taken hereafter: but it may be observed by 
the way, that, although there is scarcely any substance which water 
is not capable of dissolving to a certain extent, and consequently no 
natural form of water is pure, yet in almost every instance the natu- 
ral forms of water are not only innocuous, but salutary. 



Section VIII. 

The Air of the Atmosphere, as connected with Respiration. 

If we suppose the atmosphere deprived of heat, and light, and 
moisture, and of all those other heterogeneous particles which are 
either naturally or accidentally contained in it; there still remains 
the medium which is the receptacle or vehicle of those various sub- 
stances : and this medium is indeed that, which in common appre- 
hension is understood to be the atmosphere itself. 

• ^Niebuhr -sorts, what is confirmed by other travellers, that many tracts in 

s li, u n of r f ? m * Tl L we ". wWvated and fertile, are at present mere 
(MM i ts foi want of irrigation. (Descnpt. de l'Arabie, p. 241.) 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



73 



Of the vital importance of atmospherical air no formal proof can 
be required ; for every one capable of the least reflection must know 
that its presence is almost constantly necessary to the existence of 
man, from the moment of his birth to that of his death. Of all other 
external aids we may be deprived for a comparatively long time 
without danger, or even without much inconvenience ; of light and 
heat for instance, and of food and sleep: but we cannot be deprived 
of the air which we breathe even for a very few minutes, without 
dreadful distress ; or, if for more than a very few minutes, without 
the extinction of life. 

This vital importance of the air depends, principally, on its capa- 
bility of assisting to withdraw from the body, chiefly through the 
agency of the lungs, portions of that peculiar principle called carbon; 
the permanent retention of which would be incompatible with the 
continuance of life. And the union of this principle with one of the 
constituent parts of atmospherical air is probably effected in the lungs 
during the process of respiration ; the compound passing off in the 
act of expiration, in the state of an aeriform fluid, called carbonic 
acid gas. 

But, in order to give a clear idea of the nature of the process of 
respiration, it will be necessary to explain more particularly not only 
the constitution of that portion of the atmosphere which supports this 
process, but some of its chemical relations to other substances. At- 
mospherical air then, considering it in its adaptation to the process 
of respiration, consists of a mixture or combination of two aeriform 
fluids, which are very different from each other in character, but in- 
timately blended together in the proportion of four to one. Of these 
two fluids, that which is in the smaller proportion is not only capa- 
ble of supporting life, when respired or breathed alone; but is capa- 
ble of supporting it for a much longer period thaj an equal volume 
of atmospherical air would have supported it : and if, instead of be- 
ing employed for the process of respiration, it be made the medium 
of supporting combustion, the consequent phenomena are still more 
remarkable; for the combustible body not only burns for a longer 
time than it would have done in the same quantity of atmospherical 
air, but it burns with an intensity much more vivid ; the light of the 
flame being in many instances too powerful to be easily borne by the 
eye. On the other hand, that constituent part of atmospherical air, 
which is in the greater proportion, not only will not support either life 
or flame, even for a short time, but extinguishes both, almost in an in- 
stant. 

By numerous experiments, which it is at present unnecessary to 
describe, it has been ascertained, that many of the metals are capa- 
ble of attracting and combining with this respirable part of the air: 
during which process the metallic body assumes an earthy charac- 
ter, and becomes increased in w r eight; while the weight of the air, 
in which the experiment has been conducted, becomes diminished 

7 



7 i 



ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



exactly to the amount in which that of the metal has been increased : 
and, at the same time, the residuary portion of the air which has been 
employed in the experiment equals only about four-fifths of the ori- 
ginal volume ; and is now incapable of supporting either life or flame. 
But, by processes well known to chemists, the metallic substance 
may be made to yield a quantity of air equalling that which has been 
lost during the experiment, the metal at the same-time returning to 
its original state and weight ; while the air, thus separated, if added 
to the residual portion, not only restores the volume and weight of 
the original quantity ; but also its power of supporting life and flame. 

If, instead of a metal, certain inflammable substances be employed, 
similar changes are effected on the air ; and the inflammable sub- 
stance, together with an increase of weight and other alterations, 
acquires acid properties ; and hence that respirable portion of the 
air has, from a Greek derivation, been called oxygen ; as being the 
effective cause of the acidification of those inflammable bodies. It 
has moreover been ascertained that, during combustion, a piece of 
pure charcoal weighing twenty-eight grains combines with as much 
oxygen gas as would weigh seventy-two grains : and, as the volume 
of the gas employed remains the same at the end of the experiment 
that it was at the beginning provided it be brought to the same 
degree of temperature and atmospherical pressure, it appears that 
the carbon is as it were held in solution by the gas : and as this 
chemical compound of carbon and oxygen possesses acid properties 
it is called carbonic acid gas. 

A volume of this gas, then, which weighs one hundred grains, 
consists of twenty-eight grains of carbon chemically combined with 
seventy-two grains of oxygen: and it has certain properties, by 
which, without the labour of actual analysis, it may be recognised 
from any other gas; among the more important of which, for our 
present purpose at least, is the readiness with which it communicates 
a wheyish appearance to lime-water, when made to pass through 
that liquid. Making use of this character as a test, any individual 
may easih satisfy himself that during the process of respiration a 
quantity of carbonic acid gas passes from his lungs: for if, after 
having inhaled a portion of atmospherical air uncontaminated with 
any mixture of it, he breathe slowly through a narrow tube, the 
further extremity of which is immersed beneath the surface of a 
portion <>i lime-water, he will observe that as the bubbles of air rise 
through the lime-water, that liquid becomes opaque ; and the opacity 
ihus communicated to the water can be shown to be the result of a 
compound formed by the union of the carbonic acid, which has 
evidently been given out from the lungs, with the lime previously 
held in solution in the lime-water. 

Let it now be kept in mind that a hundred cubic inches of car- 
jOnic arid gas, under ordinary circumstances, weigh a little more 
than forty-six -rains ; and that a quantity of the same gas weighing 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 75 

a hundred grains contains twenty-eight grains of carbon ; and the 
following statement will be easily intelligible. It appears, from ex- 
periments which have been made for the purpose, that during the 
process of respiration in an individual of ordinary size and health, 
about twenty-seven cubic inches and a half of carbonic acid gas 
are given off from the lungs in the course of one minute ; which at 
the end of twenty-four hours would amount to 39,600 cubic inches, 
or in round numbers 40,000; and as 100 cubic inches weigh 46§ 
grains, 40,000 would weigh 18,532 grains. Then since a quantity 
of carbonic acid gas weighing 100 grains contains twenty-eight 
grains of carbon, a quantity weighing 18,532 grains would contain 
5190 grains, or nearly eleven ounces, at 480 grains to an ounce : 
so that a quantity of carbon equalling two thirds of a pound in 
weight is daily discharged from the blood by means of the simple 
process of respiration. 

In an illustration of the general question of the adaptation of ex- 
ternal nature to the physical condition of man, it is clearly imma- 
terial whether, during the process of respiration, the carbonic acid 
is supposed to be produced by the union of the carbon of the 
animal system with the oxygen of the air respired; or whether, as 
is possible, the carbonic acid, having been previously formed in the 
body at large, is given off in the form of carbonic acid gas from 
the lungs, while the oxygen gas of the atmosphere is absorbed by 
those organs. The main point to be considered is, the fact of the 
removal of that quantity of carbon, which could not be retained, 
with safety to the life of the individual : and when we consider that 
the entire quantity of the carbon, thus discharged, is collected from 
every the most interior and remote part of the body, how worthy 
of admiration is the economy of nature in producing the intended 
effect ! The air is the medium through which the carbon is to be 
discharged ; and yet the constitution of the body is such, that the 
air could scarcely be introduced into any of its internal parts with- 
out occasioning the most serious consequences, if not death itself : 
but by means of the circulation of the blood, that beautiful con- 
trivance intended primarily for sustaining the nourishment and 
warmth and life of every part, the noxious principle is conveyed to 
the lungs : where it is of necessity brought, if not actually, yet 
virtually, into contact with the air ; and thus it is effectually re- 
moved from the system. 

Section IX. 

Effects of the Motion of the Air, as connected with Human Health, SfC 

In the history of water we had an opportunity of observing how 
extensive are the benefits arising to mankind from that physical 



70 



ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



property, by which its particles are capable of moving with the 
greatest ease among each other: nor are the benefits less considera- 
; le, which arise from the same property in the element now under 
jideration; especially when aided by those alterations in its 
volume, which follow upon every change of temperature: for from 
these combined causes arise those currents of air, which administer, 
in various modes, as well to the luxury and comforts of man, as to 
his most important wants. 

Who does not see the miseries that would result from a stagnant 
atmosphere? To the houseless and half-clothed mendicant indeed, 
who under exposure to a wintry sky instinctively collects his limbs 
into an attitude as fixed as marble, lest by their motion he should 
dissipate the stratum of warmer air immediately surrounding his 
body — to such an individual indeed, under such circumstances, a 
stagnant atmosphere becomes a benefit of the highest value ; not 
only by preventing or moderating the painful sensation of cold ; but 
by preventing the dissipation of that degree of heat which is neces- 
sary for the preservation of the vital principle, which in his unshel- 
tered state might otherwise possibly be soon extinguished. But let 
circumstances be reversed ; and, instead of the wretched beggar 
exposed to an inclement sky, let us picture to ourselves an Asiatic 
prince surrounded by all the luxuries which power and opulence 
can procure, but oppressed by the sultry atmosphere of a burning 
sun ; how grateful to his feelings is the refreshing coolness occa- 
sioned by the artificial agitation of the surrounding air: in order to 
extend the means of obtaining which gratification, fountains of 
water are customarily introduced into the interior rooms of Indian 
and Arabian palaces, the evaporation of the spray of which gives a 
refreshing coolness to the air. Or let us recur to scenes more 
familiar, and more illustrative of the effect produced; to the bedside 
of the almost exhausted invalid, whose existence is alone made 
tolerable by the assiduous supply of fresh streams of air: there let 
us witness, in the thankful smile which animates his pallid counte- 
nance, the soothing sensation which the languid sufferer experiences. 
Even for such a momentary solace, what, of all his most valuable 
possessions, would not. every one of those miserable victims have sur- 
rendered, who once perished in that dreadful dungeon of Calcutta? 

In many instances nature tempers the high degree of heat be- 
longing to particular climates, by the periodical recurrence of cool- 
in- winds at slated hours of the day. Thus, in the islands and on 
the - nasts m general of the tropical regions of the earth, the alter- 
nations ol what are called the sea and the land breeze are of the 
highest importance to the comfort and health of the inhabitants: of 
whirl, tl„ ; following statement, taken from an official paper on the 
medical topography of Malacca, furnishes a sufficient illustration.* 

lu»J^ 183 °- Seethe Edin. Med. and 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION" OF MAN. 



77 



" The Malay peninsula possesses, though within the tropics, and 
almost under the equator, a. very equable temperature and mild 
climate. Whatever be the prevailing wind, the sea-breeze generally 
sets in from the south between ten and twelve in the morning, and 
continues till six or seven in the evening ; when, after a short calm, 
the land wind begins to blow from the north-east : and so constant 
are these breezes, that, unless during a storm, the influence of the 
monsoon is scarcely perceptible. And so uniform is their effect, 
with respect to the temperature of the air, that, throughout the year, 
the variation does not exceed fourteen or fifteen degrees of Fahren^ 
heit: being rarely higher than eighty-eight degrees, or lower than 
seventy-four degrees." 

And though the hurricanes, to which these regions are frequently 
exposed, are occasionally most dreadful in their effects upon the 
property and even the lives of the inhabitants; yet we may not 
only be assured on general principles of reasoning that in the main 
they are beneficial, but on some occasions we have immediate de- 
monstration of their remedying a greater evil. Thus when swarms 
of a peculiar species of ant had, during many years, ravaged the 
island of Grenada, to so serious an extent that a reward of twenty 
thousand pounds had been offered to any one who should discover 
a practicable method of destroying them ; and when neither poison 
nor fire had effected more than a partial and temporary destruction 
of them, they were at once swept away by a hurricane and its ac- 
companying torrents of rain. Of the numbers in which these insects 
occurred, some estimate may be formed from the following state- 
ment of an eyewitness of credible authority ; who says " he had 
seen the roads coloured by them for many miles together ; and so 
crowded were they in many places, that the print of the horse's feet 
was in a moment filled up by the surrounding swarms."* 

We who rarely are oppressed, for more than a few hours in a 
whole summer, by such a state of the atmosphere as occasionally 
precedes a thunderstorm, when no friendly breeze interposes to re- 
move the close and humid stratum of air which envelopes our 
bodies, may well be thankful that our lot has not been cast in certain 
regions of the earth ; in those Alpine valleys, for instance, whose 
scarcely human inhabitants attest the dreadful consequences of a 
confined atmosphere : the influence of which often affects not only 
the present sensations and comforts, but even the intellectual, and 
eventually the moral character, of those who are habitually exposed 
to it. 

It appears, from recent inquiries, that the physical and intellectual 
and moral degradation, so often observable in the inhabitants of 
mountain valleys in general, but noticed particularly in the valleys 
of the Rhone, may be referred with probability, among other causes, 



* Philos. Trans. 1790, p. 347. 
7* 



78 



ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



to a stagnant atmosphere; and to the reverberation of heat from the 
Miles of the mountains which bound those valleys, co-operating with 
an alternation of piercing winds: the degree of that degradation at 
least is always proportional to the action of those causes. 

It is not necessary here to dwell minutely on the disgusting alte- 
ration which the human beings, now particularized, undergo: those 
who are desirous of such information may consult a very recent 
work by Dr. James Johnson.* All that is here intended is a state- 
ment of the general fact. And it appears that, in the milder in- 
stances, the principal alteration which takes place is an enlargement 
of the thyreoid gland; which enlargement is by medical men called 
branchocele, and by the inhabitants of the Alps goitre.-f In the in- 
stances of extreme alteration, the stature rarely reaches the height 
of five feet; the skin becomes unnaturally discoloured, and disfigured 
by eruptions; the limbs distorted; and the cretin, for so he is de- 
nominated in this state, is frequently, in addition, both deaf and 
dumb, and entirely idiotic. Between the state of simple goitre and 
that of most perfect cretinism the degree of alterations are innume- 
rable. And, as indicating the connexion between this unnatural 
state of the individual, and the atmosphere which he habitually re- 
spires, the following observation is worthy of attention. " In the 
Vallais," and "in the lower gorges or ravines that open on its sides, 
both cretinism and goitre prevail in the most intense degrees : as we 
ascend the neighbouring mountains, cretinism disappears, and goitre 
only is observed ; and when we reach a certain altitude, both mala- 
dies vanish."J 

Among the physical effects of the motion of the air, that of sound 
is among the most remarkable and important: of the intimate nature 
of which, however, and of the laws that regulate its transmission, I 
should not speak more particularly, even if I felt myself competent 
to the task ; being a subject of too abstruse a character in itself to 
claim a close investigation in a treatise like the present: besides 
which, it will be examined in a separate treatise by others. What- 
ever may be the moral effects either of simple sounds, or of certain 
combinations of sounds, and such effects though apparently of a 
Illative character are occasionally very powerful, there can be no 
doubt that particular sounds act physically on our frame. Thus the 
gentle murmur of running water," or the repetition of any simple 
tone, even though not agreeable in itself, is calculated to soothe the 
Whole nervous system so as to induce sleep. There are few perhaps 
who have not experienced such an effect, from long continued atten- 

* Change of Air, &c. by James Johnson, M. D. London, 8vo. 1831. 

Such an enlargement we often in this country witness in individuals, who, in 
■ y other respect, are so far from : being deformed, that they are frequently re- 
oTJhelr whole bo^ and tte * ymm ^ and ful1 ^elopement 

i Change of Air, Sic. p. 58. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



79 



tion a to public speaker; and an apparent, though probably not the 
legitimate, proof of the effect having been produced by the sound of 
the voice of the speaker is derived from the fact, that upon his ceas- 
ing to speak, the sleeper usually awakes. There are few, again, 
who have not known from personal experience that certain tones 
affect the teeth with that peculiar and unpleasant sensation familiarly 
described under the term, set on edge. Even in the appalling sensa- 
tion excited by thunder, the mind is probably overawed by the 
physical effect produced on the nervous system by the crash, rather 
than by any apprehension of danger from the thunder itself: for that 
sensation is usually excited even in those who are most assured that 
no danger is to be expected from the loudest crash of the thunder, 
but only from the lightning which accompanies it. Nor is it unrea- 
sonable to suppose that an analogy exists between the sense of hear- 
ing and the other senses, with reference to the objects of their seve- 
ral sensations : and since in the case of taste, of sight, of smell, and 
of touch, some objects are on reasonable grounds conjectured to be 
naturally offensive, while others are agreeable to the respective 
senses ; why, it may be asked, should not the same relations hold with 
respect to the ear and the peculiar objects of its sensation 1 Evelyn 
well observes, that the bountiful Creator has left none of the senses 
which he has not gratified at once with their most agreeable and 
proper objects. 

Of all the objects of sense, sound perhaps, as a principle of men- 
tal association, the most powerfully excites the recollection of past 
scenes and feelings. Shakspeare briefly elucidates this principle in 
these lines : 

" Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news 
Hath but a losing- office ; and his tongue 
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, 
Remembered knotting a departed friend.*' 

Henry IV. Part II. Act I. Scene 1. 

The author of the " Pleasure of Memory'' not less forcibly illus- 
trates the same principle. 

"The intrepid Swiss, who guards a foreign shore, 
Condemned to climb his mountain cliffs no more, 
If chance he hear the song so sweetly wild, 
Which on those cliffs his infant hours beguiled, 
Melts at the long-lost scenes that round him rise, 
And sinks a martyr to repentant sighs." 

Rogers, &c. page 21, line 1. 

Nor is the principle less powerfully illustrated in that most beauti- 
ful Psalm beginning with the words, " By the waters of Babylon we 
sat down and wept :" for who can read that affecting apostrophe, 
" How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land," without en- 
tering into all the pathos of the scene represented by the sacred poet 
to the imagination I 



80 ADAPTATION- OF THE ATMOSPHERE 

It is said to be the opinion of the Hindoos, and though not of much 
value in argument, there is at least a metaphysical elegance in the 
opinion, that the remarkable effects of music on the human mind de- 
pend on its power of recalling to the memory the airs of paradise, 
heard in a state of pre-existence. 

But, if an individual instance of the truth of the present position 
were to be selected, it would not be possible perhaps to find one more 
impressive than that which has been recorded of the late emperor of 
the French. It is said that at that period of his life, when the con- 
sequences of his infatuated conduct had fully developed themselves in 
unforeseen reverses, Napoleon, driven to the necessity of defending 
himself within his own kingdom with the shattered remnant of his 
army, had taken up a position at Brienne, the very spot where he had 
received the rudiments of his early education ; when, unexpectedly, 
and while he was anxiously employed in a practical application of 
those military principles which first exercised the energies of his 
young mind in the college of Brienne, his attention was arrested by 
the sound of the church clock. The pomp of his imperial court, and 
even the glories of Marengo and of Austerlitz, faded for a moment 
from his regard, and almost from his recollection. Fixed for a while 
to the spot on which he stood, in motionless attention to the well 
known sound, he at length gave utterance to his feelings ; and con- 
demned the tenour of his whole subsequent life, by confessing that 
the hours, then brought back to his recollection, were happier than 
any he had experienced throughout the whole course of his tempestu- 
ous career. He might perhaps with truth have added, when looking 
at the various objects of the surrounding scenery, 

" I feel the gales, that from ye blow, 
A momentary bliss bestow." 

Perhaps also during this moment, and in making a confession so hu- 
miliating, he actually did experience that moral state represented by 
Milton to have been felt by the fallen angel — 

"Thrice he essayed (to speak); and thrice, in spite of scorn, 
" Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth—" 

But the effect produced on his mind seems to have been momentary ; 
at least it certainly did not alter his course of action. And too pro- 
bably he was at that time rather tormented by remorse, than softened 
by repentance ; a state but little favourable to the adoption of better 
counsels, even if he could then have retrieved his fortunes by such a 
change. J 



Section X. 

Effects of the Motion of the Air, as connected with the Arts, #c. 

I proceed now to consider the effects of the atmosphere, while in 
a itate ot motion, in aiding the various arts and operations of civilized 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



81 



society ; in which the action is sometimes explicable on mechanical, 
sometimes on chemical, or on physical, principles. 

It would not be a short or easy task to enumerate the various sub- 
stances which require to be deprived of all sensible moisture, in or- 
der to be applicable to the immediate purposes of life ; nor in order 
to be capable of being preserved in a state fit for future use : and the 
separation of that moisture which they may contain in their natural 
state, or which they may have accidentally contracted, can in gene* 
ral only be effected by exposure to the open air : but as that portion of 
the air, which is in contact with the moistened substance, would soon 
be so far saturated with the vapour arising from it as to be incapa- 
ble of absorbing more, it must necessarily be replaced by successive 
portions of fresh air; in order that the substance may be thoroughly 
dried : and hence we see the advantage of currents of air, or, in com- 
mon language, of the wind, for the purposes in question. Without the 
aid of such currents, the grass newly mown would often w r ith difficulty 
be converted into hay: and with still more difficulty would that con- 
version take place should it during the process, as is most likely to 
happen, be exposed to rain. The same difficulty would occur, but 
attended with much more serious effects, in the case of sheaves of 
wheat or barley, which having been once drenched with rain would 
be rendered unfit for producing bread, unless the moisture were soon 
dissipated : and with respect to the process of reducing the corn it- 
self to the state of meal, that is, in common language, of grinding it; 
although many other mechanical means are capable of being applied 
to that purpose, who does not see the advantages of the common 
windmill, even where other means are available, which in many 
places they would not be ? but windmills would themselves be una- 
vailable, were there no currents of air to set them in motion. 

In the drying of moistened linen, and of paper newly made ; in 
the seasoning, as it is called, of wood; and on numerous other occa- 
sions, the same advantages occur from the same cause, and are ex- 
plicable in the same way. But there is one instance, of very familiar 
occurrence, where the effect of a free ventilation is productive of 
the greatest comfort. At the breaking up of a long protracted frost, 
during which the air has been enabled to absorb and retain in an in- 
sensible state an unusual quantity of moisture, that moisture, as soon 
as the thaw takes place, is deposited upon the surface of every thing 
with which it comes in contact : and there can be scarcely an indi- 
vidual, from the peasant to the noble, who has not often experienced 
the comfortless state of the interior of his habitation from this cause. 
The opulent indeed, supposing that nature did not provide the remedy, 
might easily remove, and often do accelerate the removal of the 
evil, by the introduction of currents of air artificially heated : but the 
indigent, incapable of commanding so expensive a remedy, would 
meet^with serious detriment, did not a timely change in the state of 
the atmosphere enable it to re-absorb the moisture which had pre- 



g2 ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 

viously been discharged from it ; for many parts of the furniture of 
their habitation would be injured, or even destroyed by the moisture 
imbibed by them: and with respect to a much more important point, 
a healthy state of body, both the opulent and the indigent would be 
alike sufferers, from a continued exposure to the external atmosphere 
in such a state. 

In the foregoing instances currents of air have been considered as 
acting on a fixed point as it were, or on bodies nearly stationary. 
Let us now consider their action on bodies capable of being set in 
motion, as nautical vessels of all kinds, and we shall not fail to see 
the importance of that action to some of the highest interests of man. 

To those, of whatever condition in life, who are surrounded by 
the numerous resources of a commercial city, it is immediately of 
little import, unless as a question of mere corporeal feeling, whether 
the air be in a state of perfect calm, or freshened by a breeze ; and 
whether that breeze be from the east, or from the west. To the agri- 
culturist even it is comparatively of little interest, unless at particular - 
seasons, whether the wind be high or low, or from what quarter it may 
come ; further than as particular states and directions of the wind 
are indications of rain or drought. But to those " who go down to 
the sea in ships, and occupy their business in great waters," not only 
the degree of force, but the direction of the wind, is of the highest 
moment : while on many occasions, even in the present advanced 
state of science and naval architecture, a motionless state of the at- 
mosphere, or a calm, might be fatal to all their speculations. Every 
one who has lived for a time on the sea-coast must have observed with 
what anxiety the owner of the smallest fishing boat watches the vari- 
ations in the state or direction of the wind, as connected with the 
practicability of putting out to sea. If the wind be in an unfavoura- 
ble quarter, or if it blow not with sufficient force to swell his sails, 
he saunters in listless inactivity along the beach : but if the wished 
for breeze spring up, the scene is at one changed, and all is alacrity 
and life. 

In some parts of the world Providence has compensated for the 
disadvantages arising from the general uncertainty of the wind, by 
the continued regularity of its direction through stated seasons: in 
consequence of which, the merchantman calculates upon the com- 
mencement and duration of his voyage with a degree of security and 
confidence, which sets him comparatively at ease as to the event. 
These periodical currents of air indeed have been named from this 
very circumstance the trade winds : and, in illustration of their adap- 
tation to the purposes of commerce, a more striking instance perhaps 
could not be adduced than the following, which is given in a volume, 
entitled, "Four Years Residence in the West Indies," written by a 
gentleman by the name of Bayley* In the description of the island 



* London, 8vo, 1830, p. 292. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



83 



of St. Vincent it is there stated that a little sloop, the private signal 
of which was unknown to any of the merchants, sailed into the har- 
bour one morning, and immediately attracted the notice of the sur- 
rounding crowd ; and the history of its unexpected appearance is 
thus given. " Every one has heard of the little fishing smacks em- 
ployed in cruising along the coast of Scotland ; which carry herrings 
and other fish to Leith, Edinburgh, or Glasgow, worked by three or 
four hardy sailors, and generally commanded by an individual having 
no other knowledge of navigation than that which enables him to 
keep his dead reckoning, and to take the sun with his quadrant at 
noonday. 

" It appears that a man who owned and commanded one of these 
coasting vessels had been in the habit of seeing the West India 
ships load and unload in the several ports of Scotland ; and, having 
learned that sugar was a very profitable cargo, he determined, by 
way of speculation, on making a trip to St. Vincent, and returning 
to the Scottish market with a few hogsheads of that commodity. 
The natives were perfectly astonished — they had never heard of 
such a feat before ; and they deemed it quite impossible that a mere 
fishing smack, worked by only four men, and commanded by an 
ignorant master, should plough the boisterous billows of the Atlantic, 
and reach the West Indies in safety ; yet so it was. The hardy 
Scotchman freighted his vessel ; made sail ; crossed the bay of 
Biscay in a gale ; got into the trades ; and scudded along before 
the wind, at the rate of seven knots an hour, trusting to his dead 
reckoning all the way. He spoke no vessel during the whole voy- 
age, and never once saw land until the morning of the thirty-fifth 
day ; when he descried St. Vincent's right a-head : and setting his 
gaft-topsail, he ran down under a light breeze, along the windward 
coast of the island ; and came to anchor about eleven o'clock under 
the circumstances before mentioned." 

Such a vessel, and so manned, could hardly have performed the 
voyage here described, had it not been aided by the current of the 
trade wind : and what then must be the advantage of such a wind, 
when, instead of aiding the puny enterprise of a single and obpcure 
individual, it forwards the annual fleets of mighty nations. Most 
important therefore to the Roman empire was the discovery of 
Hippalus, which enabled its fleets to stretch across at once from the 
African to the Indian coast by means of the south-westerly mon- 
soons. But, if we would view the subject in all its magnitude, let 
us contemplate with a philosophic eye the haven of any one of the 
larger sea-ports of Europe ; filled with vessels from every maritime 
nation of the world, freighted not only with everything which the 
natural wants of man demand, or which the state of society has 
rendered necessary to his comfort, but with all which the most re- 
fined luxury has been able to suggest. " Merchandise," to use the 
words of Scripture, "of gold, and silver, and precious stones, and 



si 



ADAPTATION OF THE ATMOSPHERE 



of pearls, and fine linen, and purple, and silk, and scarlet, and all 
rhyine wood, and all manner vessels of ivory, and all manner 
vessels of most precious wood, and of brass, and iron, and marble, 
and cinnamon, and odours, and ointments, and frankincense, and 
wine, and oil, and fine flour, and wheat, and beasts, and sheep, and 
horses, and chariots." . . . 

But the importance of all the foregoing points of consideration in 
the history of the relation of the air to human wants is far inferior 
to that highest and most beneficial of all its relations, the production 
of the human voice: for from this source arises articulate language; 
without which medium of communication between man and man, 
what would become of the most important transactions of the busi- 
ness of life, as well as of its most rational pleasures, the charms of 
social converse ? But the consideration of the mechanism of the 
human voice is appropriated to* a distinct treatise: and the use of 
language is adapted rather to the moral than to the physical condi- 
tion of man : and I therefore forbear to dwell on a theme in itself of 
the highest interest. 

In dismissing the subject of atmospherical air, I would wish to ob- 
serve how beautiful an instance its history affords of the multiplicity 
of beneficial effects, of very different characters, produced by one 
and the same agent; and often at one and the same moment. Thus 
w r hile we have seen the air of the atmosphere serving as the re- 
servoir of that mass of water from whence clouds of rain, and con- 
sequently springs and rivers are derived, we have also seen that it 
at the same time prevents, by the effect of its pressure on their sur- 
face, the unlimited evaporation and consequent exhaustion of the 
ocean, and other sources, from whence that mass of water is sup- 
plied. And, again, while the agitation of the air contributes to the 
health of man, by supplying those currents which remove or prevent 
the accumulation of local impurities, it at the same time facilitates 
that intercourse between different nations in which the welfare of 
the whole world is ultimately concerned. And lastly, while in 
passing from the lungs in the act of expiration it essentially forms 
the voice, it at the same time removes from the system that noxious 
principle, the retention of which would be incompatible with life. 



85 



CHAPTER VIL 

ADAPTATION OF MINERALS TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 

Section I. 
The general Characters of Minerals. 

It has been shown in the foregoing chapter, that the constituent 
parts of the atmosphere are few in number, and of great simplicity 
in their composition ; that some of them usually exist in the state of 
invisible vapour, and consequently are without sensible form and 
colour : and that others, as light, and heat, and electricity, are not 
only without form and colour, but are also of such tenuity as to be 
incapable of affecting the most delicately constructed balance ; in 
common language, are without weight. We are now entering on 
a department of nature, which consists of objects characterised by 
properties very different from those we have been lately consider- 
ing; remarkable, as a class, for the mathematical precision of their 
form, the brilliancy and variety of their colour, and for their great 
weight; most of them being many times heavier than the heaviest 
element of the atmosphere. 

Few mineral substances, however, exist in such a state of purity 
as to exhibit the simple characters of their individual properties ; the 
class consisting of a great variety of species, which are capable of 
entering into union with each other, and of which the natural com- 
binations are extremely numerous. But, as might be anticipated 
from the general analogy of nature, the advantages arising to man- 
kind from this mixture of 'character are infinitely greater than if 
the individual minerals had existed in a state of purity, and uncom- 
bined with each other. Thus, to take the most familiar, and per- 
haps the most important instance, almost all natural soils consist 
principally of mixtures of the three earths called silex, lime, and 
alumine; none of which, unmixed with either of the other two, or 
at least, with some equivalent substance, would serve the purposes 
of agriculture. 

Again, all the common forms of clay consist principally of various 
combinations of the two earths called silex and alumine; and al- 
though many of those properties which make clay valuable are 
communicated by the alumine, the silex contributes very considera- 
bly towards the general utility of the compound. 



8 



66 



ADAPTATION OF MINERALS 



Section II. 

Application of Minerals to Architecture and Sculpture. 

Among the earliest arts of civilized life may be justly reckoned 
the rudiments of architecture: for it may be with truth affirmed 
that, with very few exceptions, wherever man exists in a state of 
society, he is found to protect himself from the vicissitudes of the 
weather, not only by the immediate clothing of his body, but by 
means of independent habitations ; to which, if at no other time, at 
the close of the day at least, he betakes himself; in order to enjoy 
that periodical rest which is requisite for the renewed exertion of 
his bodily powers : and very few are the situations which do not 
afford convenient materials for the purposes of building. 

In whatever situation then man may be placed, he will most pro- 
bably have the means of procuring the comfort of a fixed habitation. 
Nor is it long before he adds a certain degree of luxury to utility : 
for wherever the simple architecture of the dwelling is not deco- 
rated with some ornamental additions, we may be certain that 
society exists in a very low state of civilization ; so that sculpture, 
as an artificial refinement, seems to be a natural consequence of 
architecture. And, perhaps, the superiority attainable by education 
and habit is not displayed in any of the arts of life so strikingly as 
in these. From the simple tent of the Bedouin to the majestic ruins 
of Palmyra, among which it is pitched ; or from the rude hut of 
the modern Acropolis to the awful grandeur of the Parthenon which 
overshadows it ; how infinite are the gradations which mark the 
progress of these arts ! 

And with respect to statuary, that highest department of the art 
of sculpture, what emotions is it not capable of raising in the mind, 
particularly when employed in representing the passions or any of 
the attributes of man ! If, for instance, the mind of the savage 
could be instantaneously elevated to the feeling of correct taste, 
what would be the sensations of the islander of the southern Pacific, 
in turning from the view of his hideously-formed and grim idol, to 
the contemplation of that glory of the Vatican, 

"The Lord of the unerring- bow, 

The God of life, and poesy and light ; 

The sun in human limbs arrayed, and brow 

All-radiant from his triumph in the fight : 

in whose eye 

And nostril, beautiful disdain, and might, 
And majesty, flash their full lightnings by, 
Developing i n tnat one gl ance \j le Deity."* 



• Childe Harold, canto IV. stanza 161. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



87 



I will not here attempt to trace the history of architecture, con- 
sidered as an art characteristic of civilized society : for in such an 
attempt our reasoning must often be founded on conjecture instead 
of facts ; than which nothing is more unsatisfactory and irksome to 
a philosophically contemplative mind. It will be more congenial to 
the purpose of this treatise to point out the means afforded by nature 
for the advancement of an art, which in its origin is necessary to 
some of the chief wants and comforts of individuals ; and which is 
subsequently conducive, by the exercise of the highest faculties of 
the mind, not only to national utility and glory, but also to national 
security.* 

With respect to the inferior animals, the instinctive propensity to 
construct receptacles for themselves or their offspring is obvious : 
and if on any ground we may attribute the principle of instinct to 
man, it seems justifiable on that which we are now considering. 
Omitting, however, those more remarkable instances of instinct 
which direct the bee, the ant, the spider, the swallow, or the beaver, 
in the fabrication of the structures which they put together with 
such nice art ; if we merely consider the simple burrow of the rabbit 
or the mole, we seem to acquire a strong presumption, that man 
would not be destitute of a similar instinct : and it may reasonably 
be supposed that, by whatever intellectual power or internal 
sensation the savage is directed so to adjust the various joints and 
muscles of his limbs as to balance his body when in danger of fall- 
ing, by a similar power he is enabled so to adjust the rude boughs 
of which his hut is composed, that by mutually supporting one 
another they may at the same time serve for a support to the grass, 
or moss, which is thrown over them for the purpose of forming a 
shelter.f Numerous traces of such an instinct are observable in the 

* In the construction for instance of military fortifications, and piers, and 
bridges, & c. 

f/The following statement, from Lewis and Clarke's Travels, will show how 
much may be effected by human ingenuity and industry though aided by the 
slightest means : " The Columbian Indians possess very few axes ; and the only 
tool employed in their building, from the felling of the tree to the delicate work- 
manship of the images, (adorning their canoes,) is a chisel made of an old file : 
and this is worked without the aid of a mallet. But with this, they finish a canoe 
fifty feet long, and capable of holding between twenty and thirty persons, in a few 
weeks." p. 435. To the preceding statement may with propriety be added the 
following translation of the account which accompanies the twelfth plate in the 
first volume of De Bry: " The method of making boats in Virginia is truly wonder- 
ful: for, although the natives have no instruments of iron, or in any way resem- 
bling those of European nations, they still have the power of making boats fully 
capable of being conveniently navigated. Having selected a large and lofty tree, 
they surround it with a fire just above the roots; taking care to smother any flame, 
lest it should injure the rising part of the stem. In this way they burn through the 
greater part of the stem ; and, by thus weakening it, occasion its downfall. By a 
similar process they burn away the branches and the upper part of the tree ; and, 
raising the trunk thus prepared on forked props, so as to support it at a conveni- 
ent height for working, they scrape away the bark by means of large shells ; and 
then excavate it in a longitudinal direction by alternately burning and scraping it." 



gg ADAPTATION OF MINERALS 

amusements of children; as in the arrangement of loose stones in 
the form of enclosures ; and in the formation of banks and dikes by 
the heaping up of the sand of the sea-beach : and should it be as- 
serted that such amusements are not to be referred to instinct, but 
are to be classed simply under the principle of imitation, (as may 
certainly many of the amusements of children,) it may oe answered, 
that if not original instincts, they maybe considered as at least 
instinctive imitations of the necessary engagements of after-life. It 
has been sometimes supposed that the inclining branches of an ave- 
nue of elms or other trees suggested the idea of the gothic aisle ; 
but such a supposition seems both unnecessary in itself, and incor- 
rect as to the probable order of occurrences : for whoever has read 
the travels of Pallas through different parts of the Russian empire, 
or of other Oriental travellers, will find ample proof of the existence 
of the gothic stvle of architecture long before our earliest European 
churches were 'built: and it is just as probable, if not more so, that 
the gothic aisle suggested the idea of the elm avenue, as that this 
suggested the idea of the gothic aisle. 

The mineral substances employed in the structure of human ha- 
bitations necessarily .differ in different, parts of the world, in conse- 
quence of the difference of the materials afforded by the subjacent 
strata ; and, accordingly, an experienced eye will conjecture, al- 
most with certainty, the character of the subjacent strata, from the 
nature of the materials employed in the buildings erected on the sur- 
face : or, conversely, if the nature of the subjacent strata be antece- 
dently known, the character of the stone employed in the buildings 
of the vicinity will, almost to a certainty, be known also; and, on 
this principle, as much surprise would be excited in the mind of a 
well-informed geologist by the prevalence of granite in the build- 
ings of Kent or Sussex, as of limestone near the Land's End in 
( ornwall. 

The nature, however, of the material employed in building is in 
some measure determined by the particular stage of civilization of 
the inhabitants. Thus in the early periods of civilization, and before 
the aboriginal forests of a country have been cleared, wood has 
usually been the principal and almost the only substance employed, 
[n proportion as the population of a country increases, wood be- 
comes more and more scarce; and then brick and stone begin to be 
employed: but when the population has increased to a very consi- 
derable extent, those materials almost entirely supersede the use of 
wood, unless in the interior of the building: and hence, in this densely- 
peopled island, the half-timbered dwellings of our ancestors are daily 
becoming more picturesque* 

The value i >f building-stone depending greatly on its hardness, but 



' I hrotighout the interior of Russia and of Siberia the greater part of the build: 
inga in every town were, within a few years, entirely of wood. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



89 



the difficulty of working it being increased proportionally to its de- 
gree of hardness, it ought not to escape our notice, in a treatise, of 
which it is the professed object to illustrate the adaptation of exter- 
nal nature to the physical condition of man, that many of the com- 
mon forms of building-stone, though soft while yet undetached from 
the quarry, become hardened very considerably by exposure to the 
air : which change in their state enhances their value in a twofold 
sense ; for, in consequence of their previous softness, they are more 
easily worked ; while their subsequent hardness insures the greater 
durability of the building in which they are employed. And, again, 
though many varieties of stone are so easily worked, even after a 
long exposure to the air, as to have acquired in consequence the 
name of freestone; yet even with respect to such as are of the hard- 
est and toughest quality, an equal degree of ease in working them is 
easily attainable by practice. To an unpractised workman, for in- 
stance, nothing is more difficult than to give a determinate form, by 
the hammer or chisel, to granite, slate, or flint; and yet a little ex- 
perience enables the mason to work all these to the greatest nicety : 
and that person would indeed be very incurious, who, although he 
might not naturally be disposed to notice mechanical processes, did 
not feel an interest in observing the form which the roofing-slate 
takes under the bill of the slater ; or the ease with which the gun- 
flint is formed into its peculiar shape by a few strokes of a light 
hammer. 

But, after the stones have been detached from the quarry, and 
have been worked into a convenient form for building, it is in the 
greater number of instances necessary to the stability of the intended 
structure, that they should be consolidated together by some inter- 
mediate substance : for it would very rarely happen that the 
separate stones could be obtained of such a size as to be capable 
of remaining fixed by their own weight. Sometimes this effect is 
produced by means merely mechanical, as in the case of the con- 
struction of the larger circle of Stonehenge ; where the upper extre- 
mity of two contiguous perpendicular stones, being pared away so 
as to form what is called a tenon, is let into a corresponding cavity 
called a mortise cut into each extremity of the horizontal stone that 
unites, them. 

As such Cyclopean masonry would be far too expensive for com- 
mon purposes ; and as the labour and expense of uniting together, 
by cramps of iron or other mechanical means, the very great num- 
ber of stones requisite for the construction of even a small building, 
would be endless ; we at once see the importance of any medium 
that will fully and readily effect that union, without much expense 
of time or money : and how completely the substance called mortar 
answers the intended purpose, the slightest observation will make 
manifest. As the employment of this useful substance appears to 
have existed antecedently to history, it is not worth while to spend 



90 



ADAPTATION OF MINERALS 



any time in conjecturing how it was first discovered: but it is quite 
in unison with the intention of the present treatise to observe, that, 
of the three materials of which it is principally made, namely lime, 
sand and water, the first is readily obtained by the simple applica- 
tion of heat to any common form of limestone, a process which is 
occasionally going on in every limekiln ; and the means of obtaining 
the two others are almost every where at hand. 

Hitherto the materials, applicable to the arts of architecture and 
sculpture, have been considered as adapted to the common or ne- 
cessary wants of mankind: but in what may not improperly be 
called the poetry of those arts, they are capable, in their applica- 
tion, of eliciting the highest powers of the imagination: for surely 
this may with propriety be affirmed of such sublime productions as 
the Parthenon in architecture, or the Belvedere Apollo in sculpture. 
Nor are we obliged to seek for such productions solely in the classic 
ages of antiquity: for, to say nothing of Palladio, Michael Angelo, 
Canova, Thorvaldson, and other ornaments of modern Europe, our 
own country has given birth to works of the highest excellence in 
either department of the art. Nor need this assertion be made with 
any hesitation, while in architecture that imperishable monument of 
genius, the Eddystone lighthouse, attests the fame of Smeaton ; and 
in sculpture, the pure and simple taste of Chantrey has, in that most 
exquisite work contained within the walls of Litchfield cathedral, 
thrown a truth and beauty over the image of death, which none of 
his predecessors had ever attained.* 

Who can peruse the journal of Smeaton, and not admire the pene- 
tration, the resources, and the activity of his genius ? Consider the 
nature of the task which he had engaged to perform ; his limited and 
uncertain opportunities of action; the failures of others who had pre- 
ceded him in a similar undertaking; the consequent necessity of new 
principles, and new combinations, in his plan of operations; the for- 
midable dangers he was continually under the necessity of encoun- 
tering; and, lastly, the awful responsibility of the undertaking itself : 
consider all these points, and it may be safely affirmed that, as an 
instance of the conjoined effects of personal enterprise, fortitude, and 

rseverance, the Eddystone lighthouse stands unrivalled. 

On a small, precipitous, and completely insulated rock, deriving 
its very name from the irregular and impetuous eddies which pre- 
vail around it; elevated but a few feet above the level of the sur- 
rounding ocean, even in its calmest state; and exposed at all times 
to the uninterrupted swell of the Atlantic; by the joint violence of 
the wind and waves of which, a preceding structure had been in a 
momenl swept away, leaving not a wreck behind; on such a spot 
was this now wonder of the world to be erected. Former experi- 

' One exception to this assertion perhaps exists, in a work on a similar subject 
by Uanktt; in the church of Ashbourne, Derbyshire. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



91 



ence is here of little avail, and common principles and means have 
been already tried in vain ; the architect is thrown almost entirely 
on his own resources ; and they do not fail him. In order to com- 
bat the force of those overpowering elements to which the future 
structure is to be constantly exposed, he looks about for that natural 
form which is found most permanently to resist a similar conflict ; 
and viewing with a philosophic eye the expanded base of the oak, 
and the varying proportions of its rising stem, he made the happy 
selection of this object as the type of the proportions of his intended 
work. 

" On this occasion," he himself says,* " the natural figure of the 
waist or bole of a large spreading oak presented itself to my imagi- 
nation. Let us for a moment consider this tree: suppose at twelve 
or fifteen feet above its base, it branches out in every direction, and 
forms a large bushy top, as we often observe. This top, when full 
of leaves, is subject to a very great impulse from the agitation of 
violent winds; yet partly by its elasticity, and partly by the natural 
strength arising from its figure, it resists them all, even for ages, till 
the gradual decay of the material diminishes the coherence of the 
parts, and they suffer piecemeal by the violence of the storm : but 
it is very rare that we hear of such a tree being torn up by the 
roots. Let us now consider its particular figure — connected with 
its roots, which lie hid below ground, it rises from the surface thereof 
with a large swelling base, which at the height of one diameter is 
generally reduced by an elegant curve, concave to the eye, to a di- 
" ameter less by at least one third, and sometimes to half of its origi- 
nal base. From thence its taper diminishing more slow, its sides by 
degrees come into a perpendicular, and for some height form a cy- 
linder. 

" After that, a preparation of more circumference becomes neces- 
sary for the strong insertion and establishment of the principal 
boughs, which produces a swelling of its diameter. Now we can 
hardly doubt but that every section of the tree is nearly of an equal 
strength in proportion to what it has to resist : and were we to lop 
off its principal boughs, and expose it in that state to a rapid current 
of water, we should find it as much capable of resisting the action 
of the heavier fluid, when divested of the greatest part of its cloth- 
ing, as it was that of the lighter when all its spreading ornaments 
were exposed to the fury of the winds : and hence we may derive 
an idea of what the shape of a column of the greatest stability ought 
to be, to resist the action of external violence, when the quantity of 
matter is given whereof it is to be composed." 

But invention and composition, do not constitute the whole of the 
character of genius, in the practical arts at least. Industry, both 

* A Narration of the Building-, &c. of the Eddystone Light house, London, 1791, 
| P-42. 



92 



ADAPTATION OF MINERALS 



that which resists the listlessness arising from continuity and same- 
ness of pursuit; and, still more, that which, though repeatedly re- 
pressed by unexpected impediments, as repeatedly recovers its elas- 
ticity ; unconquerable and indefatigable industry, like that of the ant, 
is likewise requisite. And such industry did Smeaton manifest: and 
his industry has hitherto been completely crowned with success. The 
Eddystone has withstood the war of winds and waves through the 
greater part of a century, unshaken in a single point : and if of any 
human work we dare affirm as much, we might affirm of this, " manet 
aoternumque manebit." 

We now turn to the efforts of genius, of another, and, intrinsically, 
a higher order — to that beautiful composition of Chantrey, to which 
allusion has been already made. A different task is here to be ac- 
complished : it is not the storm of the physical elements which is to 
be resisted, but the poignant grief of the bereaved parent is to be 
assuaged; and that, not by any nepenthe which may obliterate the 
memory of lost happiness ; but by, I had almost said, the living image 
of the very objects themselves from which that happiness arose, and 
in which it centred. Alone, and undistracted by the presence of 
surrounding friends, the widowed mother approaches in mournful 
silence the consecrated aisle; where, softly clasped in each other's 
arms, she sees her beloved children resting in the repose of sleep 
rather than of death : and gazing on them with intense affection, she 
feels not sorrow for a while; but, indulging in a dream which 
almost realizes her past happiness, would fold her treasures to her 
bosom, were she not too conscious that the cold embrace would 
dissipate the fond illusion. 



Section HI. 
Gems and Precious Stones. 



h it were the purpose of this treatise to point out the adaptation 
of external nature to the moral as well as to the physical condition 
ol man, it might be easily shown, that, however an undue decree of 
attention to outward ornaments is blameable, a moderate degree of 
attention is both allowable and right: otherwise, and it is an instance 
that outweighs all others, it would not have been observed in the de- 
corations of the temple of Solomon, nor in the original ordinations 
respecting the dress of the Levitical priesthood. Those substances 
consequently, which are capable of being applied to ornamental 
purposes, become, in our mode of using them, a test of virtue, in 
the same manner as our ordinary clothing, and food, and sleep; all 
oJ which, though even necessary to our existence, may be abused by 
a luxurious indulgence in them. But at present lam no further 
concerned With the moral part of the question, than to infer that, if 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



93 



an attention to external ornament be not only allowable, but right, 
we may antecedently expect that materials for its exercise would be 
provided by nature : and that is indeed the fact.* 

It would be difficult however to determine, which of the three 
kingdoms, the animal, vegetable, or mineral, is the most prolific 
source of those beautiful forms and colours which are principally 
valued as objects of external ornament. We do not indeed observe 
in any flower that iridescent play of colours which characterises 
some varieties of the opal and felspar, among minerals ; and the 
plumage of certain birds and the scales of certain fish, among ani- 
mals : but in elegance and variety of form, and in splendour and 
simplicity of colour, the vegetable world will be found to yield 
neither to the animal nor mineral. Mineral substances, however, 
from their rarity as well as beauty, are more prized ; and from the 
durability of their substance are more permanently applicable to 
ornamental purposes than those either of animal or vegetable origin ; 
and therefore serve better to illustrate the principle of this treatise. 

From among those substances which in commercial language are 
called precious stones, though some so called are not really derived 
from the mineral kingdom, it is proposed to select the diamond as a 
pre-eminent example of the whole class ; because, in addition to those 
properties which render it valuable as an ornamental gem, there are 
some points in its history which give it a peculiar worth. It will 
naturally excite the surprise of those, who are unacquainted with 
the chemical history of this substance, to learn that the purest dia- 
mond does not essentially differ from a particular variety of common 
coal ; or from that mineral of which drawing pencils are made, and 
which is usually, though not with propriety, called 'plumbago and 
black lead: and yet nothing has been more clearly proved than that 
equal weights of these several substances, if submitted to the process 
of combustion, will produce nearly equal proportions of carbonic 
acid gas ; which has already been stated to be a chemical combi- 
nation of definite proportions of carbon and oxygen; the diamond, 
which is the purest form of carbon, burning away without leaving 
any residuum; the other two leaving a very small proportion of 
ashes, in consequence of their containing foreign matter. 

And here we can hardly fail to notice a very remarkable instance 
of what may be called the economical provisions of nature. How 
rarely, and in what small quantities, are the, diamond and plumbago 
found; and how abundantly does coal predominate in many parts 
of the world ! The Borrodale mine of plumbago in Cumberland is 
the most considerable source of that substance throughout Europe ; 
and the province of Golconda almost alone supplies the whole world 
with diamonds : and, probably, the accumulated weight of all the 



* '« Wherefore did nature pour her bounties forth ?" &c. 

Comus, line 726, &c. 



94 ADAPTATION OF MINERALS 

plumbago and of all the diamonds which have ever been derived 
from those and other sources, would not equal a hundredth part of 
the weight of coal which is daily quarried in Great Britain. Suppose 
now that the case had been reversed ; and what would have been 
the consequence ! diamond and plumbago, though really combusti- 
ble substances, yet from their slow combustibility could never have 
answered, in the place of coal, as a fuel for general purposes ; and, 
on the other hand, without that large supply of coal which nature 
has provided, what would have become of the domestic comforts 
and commercial speculations of the greater part of Europe, during 
the two last centuries ? 

The value of the diamond is not derived solely from its transparency 
and lustre. Its remarkable hardness is another and a most useful 
property belonging to it: for, in consequence of its great degree of 
hardness, it is capable of cutting and polishing not only the hardest 
glass, but even the hardest gems: and if we consider how usuful a 
substance glass is, how universally employed as a means of at the 
same time admitting light and excluding the air from the interior of 
our houses; but that in consequence of its hardness and brittleness 
it would with great difficulty be divided by any common mechanical 
instrument, so as accurately to fit the frames in which it is fixed for 
the above purposes, we at once see the value of a substance which 
easily and readily accomplishes that end. A small diamond no 
larger than a mustard seed, brought to a point and fixed in a conve- 
nient handle, enables the glazier to cut a plate of glass into pieces of 
any shape that he pleases : and the same instrument will serve his 
daily use for many successive years. Nor is it among the least of 
the glories of this gem, that it gave occasion to that remarkable con- 
jecture of Sir Isaac Newton respecting its chemical nature. That 
philosopher having observed, that the refractive power of transpa- 
rent substances is in general proportional to their density ; but that, 
of substances of equal density, those which are combustible possess 
the refractive power in a higher degree than those which are not, 
concluded from a comparison of the density and refractive power 
of the diamond, that it contained an inflammable principle; which 
opinion was subsequently confirmed by direct experiment. It will be 
remembered by the chemical reader that on the same ground he made 
the same conjecture with respect to water, and with the same suc- 
cess. And never, perhaps, did the eye of philosophy penetrate 
more unexpectedly the thick veil which is so often found to hide the 
real character of various forms of matter: for, imperishable as from 
its name the adamant was supposed to be, who would have antece- 
dently expected that it might be dissipated into air by the process of 
combustion 7 and, with respect to the other subject of his conjecture, 
it any principle was opposed to combustibility in the opinion of man- 
kind it was water—" Aquae contrarius ignis." 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



95 



Section IV. 

The Distribution and relative Proportions of Sea and Land ; and the 
geological Arrangement and physical Character of some of the su- 
perficial Strata of the Earth. 

As it is clearly a just object of the present treatise to select the 
most familiar and most obvious instances of the principle intended to 
be illustrated, I shall in entering upon the abstruse department of 
geology, consider only those phenomena which offer themselves to 
the eye in every part of the world ; and which are either at once in- 
telligible, or easily demonstrable, to the commonest observer. 

Of such phenomena the most prominent are the general distribu- 
tion of the sea and the land ; and the relative proportions of their 
superficial extent. With reference to the sea, although we may never 
know all the ends which are answered by its saltness, and why its 
depth should be greater in some parts than others ; and although we 
can perhaps form no more than a conjecture as to the advantages 
derivable from the tides ; (the prevention, for instance, of a stagnant 
state of the water;) or from the accumulation of ice near the poles ; 
(the cooling, probably, of the general mass of the atmosphere, and 
the consequent production of currents of air ;) yet of its mode of dis- 
tribution, and of the relative extent of its surface, we readily appre- 
hend the reason ; simply in considering that all those forms of water 
which contribute to the fertilization of the earth, or the support of 
animal life, are derived from the ocean. Were the superficial ex- 
tent of this therefore much less than it is, the quantity evaporated 
would not be sufficient for the intended purposes ; or, were the dis- 
tribution different from what it is, were the sea, for instance, to oc- 
cupy one hemisphere, and the land the other, the w T ater evaporated 
would not be so equally diffused through the atmosphere as it is at 
present. 

And, with respect to the land, how T beautifully does the particular 
arrangement and character of its surface conspire with its general 
distribution, to equalize the diffusion of the water that is discharged 
upon it from the atmosphere ! The truth of the proposition contained 
in those lines, 

" Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis, at ille 
Labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis sevum," 

depends on the nature of the particular arrangement and character, 
to which allusion has just been made. On the one hand, the general 
surface of the land ascending from the sea on all sides towards some 
central ridge or district, called the watershed of the country, all the 
rain that does not sink beneath the surface is accumulated into rivers ; 



96 



ADAPTATION OF MIXERALS 



which naturally descend towards, and ultimately reach, the sea : and, 
on the other hand, the superficial strata being in general incapable 
of immediately absorbing the rain which falls upon them, the descent 
of the water is the necessary result of the inclination of the surface. 
But if, from partial causes, such an inclination of the land is either 
wanting, or the course of rivers is impeded by the unrepressed growth 
of reeds and sedge, the adjoining district is overflowed, and at length 
converted into a stagnant marsh. It is from such a physical cause, 
that, at this moment, the ancient site of Babylon attests the truth of 
prophecy ; being still, as it has been for ages, " a possession for the 
bittern, and pools of water." 

But that which is called the watershed of any large tract of land is 
not simply the most elevated portion of the whole surface : it consists 
also, in a greater or less degree, of ranges of mountains; down the high 
inclined sides of which the rain immediately descends in numerous 
torrents, which by their gradual accumulation produce rivers. And, 
as best calculated to secure the permanent effect, the substance of 
these mountains is in general so hard, and impermeable to water, 
that, with reference to the present system of the earth, they may 
justly be characterised by the epithet " everlasting." But if, instead 
of being thus durable, they were of a soft or friable substance, they 
would soon cease to exist as mountains; and if they were porous, 
instead of compact, they would absorb much of that rain which now 
contributes to the formation of rivers. 

From that portion of the rain which, in comparatively flat districts, 
sinks beneath the surface of the earth, reservoirs of water are formed : 
from which, either spontaneous springs arise, or into which, artificial 
excavations called wells are sunk : and of the utility of such reservoirs, 
those beds of gravel which occur in every part of the world afford 
upon the whole the best illustration. 



Section V. 
Beds of Gravel. 

Few subjects would at the first view appear more barren of in- 
terest than a bed of gravel ; consisting, as it usually does, of nothing 
but fragments of broken pebbles and sand, heaped together in appa- 
rently inextricable confusion. Yet such beds, dispersed as they are 
very generally over the surface of the regular strata, administer ma- 
terially to the wants of man; in affording him the means of supply- 
ing himsell readily with that important necessary of life, water. 

From the irregularity in the form and size of the component parts 
Ol -ravel, and from the slight degree of cohesion by which they are 
united, the whole mass is necessarily porous: and hence, readily 
transmit. ng the ram which falls on its surface, becomes charged 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



97 



with water to an extent proportional to the quantity of rain which 
has penetrated it ; being enabled to retain the water thus accumulated, 
in consequence of its resting on some substratum, as clay, which is 
impermeable to water : so that, if an excavation sufficiently deep be 
made into any part of the gravel, the water immediately drains into 
this excavation, and rises at length to the level of the general mass 
of water contained in the whole bed ; by which easy process, in such 
instances at least, those reservoirs, called wells, are formed : and 
these reservoirs are never exhausted, so long as the whole bed of 
gravel retains any considerable proportion of water. A very ready 
illustration of this fact is afforded by the familiar instance of those 
excavations which children are accustomed to make in the sand of 
the sea-beach, while yet charged with moisture during the ebbing of 
the tide. 

The inhabitants of a town which, like Oxford, is built partly on a 
comparatively shallow bed of gravel, and partly on a deep stratum 
of clay, can well appreciate the value of the former substratum of 
their habitations, with reference to the facility of procuring water : 
for while they, whose dwellings are built on the gravel, can readily 
obtain water by sinking a well immediately on the spot; they whose 
dwellings are on the clay, must either procure water from a dis- 
tance, or incur a very serious, and, finally perhaps, useless expense, 
in attempting to penetrate the clay.* With respect to its general 
uses, gravel seems only to be employed in the repairing of roads and 
walks; in the composition of some kinds of mortar; and as a con- 
venient occasional ballast for sailing vessels: so that, if we confine 
our view to the means afforded by gravel beds of supplying the or- 
dinary wants of man, their history may be comprised in a few words. 
Not so, if we view them with reference to their origin, and the na- 
ture of their occasional contents : and little dreams any one, save the 
professed geologist, what a mine lies hid, in those confused heaps of 
ruin, for the exercise of man's intellectual faculties. Few subjects 
indeed have afforded ampler scope for philosophical reflection. In 
proof of which I need do no more than refer to the labours and inge- 
nuity of .Cuvier on the continent, and of Professor Buckland in our 
own country : of whom the one, by a scientific examination of the 
organic remains of gravel beds, in addition to those of some of the 
regular strata, has brought to light not only numerous individual 
species, but whole families of animals, which have ceased to exist 
ages and ages since : and the other, with no less labour and ingenuity, 
has all but exhibited some of these animals to our view in the very 
act of devouring and digesting their food. 

How often, and with what intense interest, has not the scientific 

* From the observation of analogous arrangement in the general strata of the 
earth, namely, that those which are pervious to water alternate with those which 
are impervious to water, Mr. William Smith, " the father of English geology," be- 
came acquainted with the origin of springs, and the true principles of draining. 

9 



MS ADAPTATION OF MINERALS 

aeoloirist perused the original essays of Cuvier; in which, setting out 
from The casual observation of a simple fragment of a fossil bone be- 
i, to some extinct species, he has established not only he class 
anlorir, but even the size and proportions of the individual to which 
aSXH the general nature of its food. And how often, in addi- 

i to pro lessed geologists, has not an attentive audience of academi- 
cal [students listened with admiration to the clear and vivid eloquence 
of the other of those philosophers, the Geological Professor of Ox- 
ford, while he unfolded that beautiful chain of facts by which he 
traced his antediluvian animals to their native cayes; and exposed 
to view, to the mental eve at least, and almost to the corporeal their 
particular habits, and even the relics of their last meal And, lest 
there should be any doubt as to the nature of this meal, he discovered, 
by a most philosophical, for I will not say fortunate conjecture, une- 
quivocal proofs of the actual remains of it; not only in its original, 
but also in its digested state. I here allude particularly to his verifi- 
cations of the masses of digested bone which he has most satisfac- 
torily shown to have passed through the whole tract of the digestive 
organs of his favourite hyenas ; and which are so nearly identical, 
in every character, with the similar masses that daily traverse the 
same organs of the living species, as to make it difficult even for an 
experienced eye to ascertain the difference between them. 

It is natural that I should feel a pleasure in recording the well- 
earned fame of a friend with whom I have lived in habits of intimacy 
for more than twenty years ; and whom, in the commencement of 
his career, I had the good fortune totead into that avenue of science, 
on which he has subsequently thrown more light than perhaps any 
other English'geologist; with the exception, indeed of one, the reve- 
rend W. Conybeare, the admiration of whose comprehensive and 
commanding views, as well in fossil as in general geology, is not con- 
fined to his own countrymen; the members of th^ French Institute 
having attested their sense of his pre-eminent talbqts by the high 
honour of selecting him, a few years since, as one of their foreign 
associates — an honour particularly distinguished by the uncommon 
circumstance, that it was not only unsolicited, but unexpected, by 
himself. 

On one point, however, of Professor Buckland's general theory of 
the organic remains met with in gravel beds, and in certain natural 
caverns, 1 not only differ from him, but think it right to express the 
ground of that difference. Dr. Buckland's arguments in favour of 
his opinion that the animals of the gravel beds, and the caverns, 
habitually frequented the spots where these remains are found, are 
not only ingenious, but arc occasionally supported by facts which al- 
mosl necessarily lead to that conclusion: and it is not intended to 
attempl to invalidate them. They do not indeed stand in the way 
of the objection now to be advanced : this objection being applica- 
ble to that part of theory only which considers the destruction of 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



99 



these animals as the effect of the Mosaic deluge/ Nor is the objec- 
tion, in its origin, so much directed against the insulated supposition 
thatthese organic remains are immediate proofs of the Mosaic deluge; 
as against the principle of supporting the credibility of the sacred 
Scriptures on any unascertained interpretation of physical pheno- 
mena. Such a support appears to be imprudent, as well as unneces- 
sary : uunecessary, because the moral evidence of the credibility of 
the Scriptures is of itself fully sufficient ; imprudent, because we have 
the strong ground of antecedent analogy, not only in another but in 
this very branch of knowledge, for anticipating a period in the pro- 
gress of science, when particular phenomena may be interpreted in 
a very different manner from that in which they are intepreted at 
present. Thus the explanation of the motions of our solar system, 
which is now admitted very generally, without any fear of weaken- 
ing the authority of Scripture, was once as generally impugned on 
the principle of that very fear. Time was also, and indeed within 
the last century, when the shells and other organic remains, which 
are imbedded in the chalk and other solid strata, w r ere considered to 
be the remains and proofs of the Mosaic deluge ; and yet at the pre- 
sent day, without any fear of injuring the credibility of the Scrip- 
tures, they are admitted very generally to have been deposited an- 
teriorly to the Mosaic deluge. And who will venture to say, in the 
infancy of a science like geology, that the same change of opinion 
may not happen with respect to the organic remains of the gravel 
beds and caverns. Nor indeed do I think, and I expressed this opinion 
nearly twenty years since, that the organic remains of the gravel 
beds and the caverns can be, on even mere philosophical grounds, 
adduced as physical proofs of the Mosaic deluge. For as according 
to the Mosaic record it was the intention of the Deity on that occa- 
sion, in the midst of a very general destruction of individuals to pre- 
serve species, we should in reason expect, among the organic remains 
of that catastrophe, a preponderance, at least, of the remains of ex- 
isting species : since, although some species may have been lost sub- 
sequently to the deluge, these naturally would be comparatively few. 
But the fact is just the reverse ; for by far the greater number of the 
organic remains of the gravel, as of the caverns, belong to species 
not known now to exist. And with respect to those remains which 
appear capable of being identified with living species, Cuvier allows 
that they belong to orders of animals, the species of which often differ 
only in coulor, or in other points of what may be called their exter- 
nal or superficial anatomy ; and cannot therefore be satisfactorily 
identified by the remains of their bones alone. 

I do not consider it right to enter into a more extended examination 
of the question on the present occasion : but, could it be proved that 
visible traces of the Mosaic deluge must necessarily exist, arguments 
might be adduced to show both where those traces ought to be expect- 
ed, and that they do actually exist. But the deluge itself was evidently 



[0Q ADAPTATION OF MINERALS 

a miracle, or an interference with the laws which usually regulate 
Lbe operation of second causes : and whoever admits the force of the 
reasoning, contained in Butler's Analogy of Natural and Revealed 
Religion, will be disposed to allow that visible evidence of the catas- 
trophe may have been purposely obscured, in order to exercise our 
faith in an exclusive belief of the moral evidence. 

I would not lay undue weight on the negative proof arising from 
the absence of human remains, although they have been in vain 
searched for, even in parts of the world to which it may fairly be 
presumed that the human race had penetrated at the period of the 
Mosaic deluge : but undoubtedly such a negative proof is not with- 
out considerable weight ; especially when taken in connexion with 
the theory of a continental geologist, M. de Beaumont, of whose 
powers of philosophical generalization Professor Sedgwick speaks in 
language the most expressive. " I am using," he say, " no terms of 
exaggeration, when I say that, in reading the admirable researches 
of M. de Beaumont, I appeared to myself, page after page, to be ac- 
quiring a new geological sense, and a new faculty of induction."* 

After having taken a general survey of M. de Beaumont's obser- 
vations and views, Mr. Sedgwick alludes to an opinion which he 
himself had expressed in the preceding year, that what is commonly 
called diluvial gravel is probably not the result of one but of many 
successive periods. " But what I then stated," he adds, " as a pro- 
bable opinion, may, after the essays of M. de Beaumont, be now ad- 
vanced with all the authority of established truth — we now connect 
the gravel of the plains w T ith the elevation of the nearest system of 
mountains ; we believe that the Scandinavian boulders in the north of 
Germany are of an older date than the diluvium of the Danube : and 
we can prove that the great erratic blocks, derived from the granite 
of Mont Blanc, are of a more recent origin than the old gravel in the 
tributary valleys of the Rhone. That these statements militate against 
opinions, but a few years since held almost universally among us, 
cannot be denied. But, in retreating when we have advanced too 
far, there is neither compromise of dignity, nor loss of strength ; for 
in doing this, we partake but of the common fortune of every one 
who enters on a field of investigation like our own. All the noble 
generalizations of Cuvier, and all the beautiful discoveries of Buck- 
land, as far as they are the results of fair induction, will ever remain 
unshaken by the progress of discovery. It is only to theoretical 
opinions that my remarks have any application." (p. 33.) 

Mr. Sedgwick then proceeds to argue that different gravel beds 
having been formed at different periods, it may happen from the na- 
ture ol diluvial action, that mixturesof the materials of different beds 
may occur; and consequently that "in the very same deposite we 



* Sec Prof. Srd^wick's address to the Geolog-. Society, 1831, p. 29. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



101 



may find the remains of animals which have lived during different 
epochs in the history of the earth." (p. 33.) 

He then shows how, from the double testimony of the widely ex- 
isting traces of diluvial action, and the record of a general deluge 
contained in the sacred Scriptures, the opinion was naturally formed 
that all those traces were referable to one and the same action : 
though we ought in philosophical caution to have hesitated in adopt- 
ing that opinion, because " among the remnants of a former world, 
entombed in these ancient deposites, we have not yet found a single 
trace of man, or of the works of his hands." (p. 34.) Lastly, he 
strenuously denies that the facts of geological science are opposed to 
the sacred records, or to the reality of an historic deluge ; and for 
himself, utterly rejects such an inference : and argues justly, that 
there is an accordance between the absence of human remains in 
these diluvial beds of gravel, and the supposed antiquity of their for- 
mation, inasmuch as the phenomena of geology, and the testimony of 
both sacred and profane history, " tell us in a language easily under- 
stood, though written in far different characters, that man is a recent 
sojourner on the surface of the earth." (p. 35.) 



Section VI. 
Metals. 

The atmosphere, and the vegetable, and animal kingdoms, being 
three out of the four general departments of the external world, are 
most extensively necessary to the welfare, if not to the very existence, 
of every individual : but even communities of men, in an uncivilized 
state indeed, have existed, and in some parts of the earth are still 
existing, without any further aid from the mineral kingdom than that, 
which the common soil affords to the growth of the food which sup- 
ports them. But a civilized state of society is the natural destination 
of man ; and such a state of society is incapable of arising or being 
maintained, without the aid of mineral substances : and this assertion 
holds more particularly with respect to the metallic species. 

In that department of civilized intercourse which exists in the ex- 
change of the commodities of life, what other substance could be an 
equivalent substitute for gold and silver, or even copper, as a medium 
of that exchange? In what constant use, and of what immense im- 
portance, are some of the commonest metals in agriculture, and in 
the arts; or for the various purposes of domestic life! Nor have 
any substances more successfully exercised the powers of the mind, 
in the discovery or improvement of physical truths ; or more largely 
contributed to the benefit of mankind by the practical application of 
those tfuths. We owe it to the researches of philosophy, not only 
that new and highly valuable metals have been discovered ; but that 

9* 



102 



ADAPTATION OF MIXER A LS 



the general value of the metals previously known, has been advanced 
by extended and improved applications of their inherent properties, 
or by the invention of new metallic combinations or alloys. 

If a convincing and familiar proof of the extensive application of 
the metals to the common purposes of life were required, we need 
only refer to the case of many a common cottager, who could not 
carry on his daily concerns and occupations without the assistance 
of several of the metals. He could not, for instance, make his larger 
purchases, nor pay his rent, without silver, gold, and copper. With- 
out iron he could neither dig, nor plough, nor reap ; and, with respect 
to his habitation, there is scarcely a part of the structure itself, or of 
the furniture contained in it, which is not held together, to a greater 
or less extent, by means of the same metal: and many articles are 
either entirely of iron, or of iron partially and superficially coated 
with tin. Zinc, and copper, and antimony, and lead, and tin, are 
component parts of his pewter and brazen utensils. Quicksilver is 
a main ingredient in the metallic coating of his humble mirror : co- 
balt and platina, and metals perhaps more rare and costly than these, 
as chrome, are employed in the glazing of his drinking cups and jugs. 
And if he be the possessor of a fowling-piece, which commonly he 
would be, arsenic must be added to the foregoing list, as an ingre- 
dient in the shot with which he charges it ; for it is arsenic which 
enables the shot, during the process of its granulation, to acquire that 
delicately spherical form by which it is characterised. So that the 
whole number of metals made use of by society at large for common 
purposes, amounting to less than twenty, more than half of these are 
either directly used by the mere peasant, or enter into the composition 
ot he furniture and implements employed by him. 

In estimating the value of those mineral substances which were 
considered in the preceding chapter, as applicable to the common 
P^poses of life their degree of hardness is the property of principal 
consiaeration: but, in addition to this, metallic bodies posse ss some 
|»" i iiar properties which very greatly increase their value. Thus, 
» to a force acting perpendicularly on their surface, as under re- 

• ■ (I Wows of the hammer, or compression by rollers, many of 
e capable of be,ng expanded to a greater or less extent; 
"! „ ' em tT h a " eX,ent as t0 become thinner than the thin- 
: Mr P^erty n its various degrees is expressed by 
; } ■ ■ ; «•«'''%• others, though not possessing any great degree 
' ' Z'ZlV? I 3 ™", "] i,lt0 a wire > sometimls so fine as 

w trmJTevL ,fi ct on bv a ai " e C3pable ° f J being eX P anded 

tei .„,.„.., J airecton by an increase or decrease of their 

nexion with certak S, iff. ,em P eratu >;e. And lastly, in con- 
of existing eXr k^K? ,em P era,ure ; al1 the metals are capable 
ng MUiei in a solid or i„ a liquid state: and their property 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



103 



of passing from a solid to a liquid state, in consequence of the agency 
of heat, is called their fusibility. 

Into the detail of the different degrees in which these properties 
are possessed by different metals, it belongs to the chemist to enter. 
What we have at present to consider is, the advantage accruing to 
society from these properties themselves, and from their existence 
in that particular degree in which they actually do exist in the dif- 
ferent metals : to show, for instance, that those metals which possess 
malleability in a greater ratio than ductility, or ductility in a greater 
ratio than malleability, are of infinitely greater value than if the con- 
verse were true : and so with respect to the property of fusibility. 
Thus gold, being comparatively scarce, and principally valuable on 
account of its colour, its resplendency, and its remarkable power of 
resisting the action of the air, and of various agents which readily 
tarnish or rust the more common metals, (all w r hich properties reside 
on the mere surface,) a given quantity of such a metal is consequently 
more valuable in proportion to the degree of its malleability ; because 
it may be extended over a greater surface : and no metal possesses 
this property in so high a degree as gold ; so that, as far as the eye 
is the judge, the most ordinary substance may be made to repre- 
sent the most costly, at a comparatively trifling expense : while in 
the degree of its ductility, which in gold would be, for general pur- 
poses, of little moment, it is inferior to most of the metals.* 

Iron, again, is malleable to a degree which renders it most valua- 
ble as a material for fabricating all kinds of instruments for me- 
chanical, domestic, or philosophical purposes; and it is capable of 
being hardened by well known processes sufficiently for the numerous 
and important works of the carpenter and mason, and the equally 
important purposes of war, agriculture, and the arts. A greater 
degree of malleability, in a metal employed for such purposes as 
those for which iron is usually employed, especially as this metal is 
very easily corroded by rust, w T ould clearly have added nothing to 
its practical value : while its degree of ductility, which exceeds that 
of every other metal, combined with its capability of being hardened 
in various degrees, occasionally confers a value on it greatly su- 
perior to that of gold. 

From the difference in the degree of fusibility of different metals, 
aided by the disposition which they have to unite so as to form an 
alloy, arises the possibility of covering one metal in a solid state with 
a superficial coating of another metal in a state of fusion. I am not 
aware that this method is employed, at least to any extent, in any 

* It should be kept in mind that this observation is applied to unalloyed or pure 
gold; for, when alloyed, this metal is capable of being- drawn out into a compa- 
ratively fine wire. Dr. Wollaston indeed suggested a method of drawing out even 
pure gold into an exceedingly fine wire, by enclosing it in a mass of a highly ductile 
metal, drawing out the mixed metal into fine wire, and disengaging the gold from 
the metal in which it was enclosed, by any acid which would dissolve the latter 
without affecting the gold itself. 



101 



ADAPTATION OF MINERALS 



other instances, than in the application of tin to the surface of copper 
or of iron: but, were there a hundred similar instances, they would 
not lessen the value of this, as affording an illustration of that prin- 
ciple which has been borne in mind throughout this treatise. Con- 
sider only the respective degree of abundance of each of the three 
metals just mentioned, and the difference in some of their qualities 
with respect to external agents, and we shall have ample reason for 
being assured that, on this and on every other occasion, we may say 
of the Creator of material things—" In wisdom hast Thou made them 
all." And not only is it true that 

" The world by difference is in order found;" 

but the difference is so adjusted in every instance, that, if it were 
varied, the value of the substances in which the difference is obser- 
vable would be destroyed. Thus, of the three metals now under 
consideration, iron and copper, from the degree of their malleability, 
are easily formed into those various vessels which are of daily use 
for culinary and other purposes; while tin possesses the property of 
malleability in comparatively a slight degree: and, correspondent^ 
with the extent of their use, iron and copper are found in great 
abundance and in almost every part of the world; while tin is of 
very rare occurrence. Again, the two former metals are easily 
rusted ; and, from the poisonous quality of the rust of copper, fatal 
effects on human health and life would be frequently occurring, used 
so extensively as that metal is for the construction of vessels in which 
our food is prepared, were it not defended by that superficial coat- 
ing of tin, which is commonly applied to the inner surface of such 
vessels; tin being neither easily rusted, nor capable of communicat- 
ing any poisonous quality to substances brought into contact with it. 
Let us then suppose that the respective degree of malleability, or of 
fusibility, were reversed in these metals ; and observe the inconve- 
nience that would ensue. Let the tin have that degree of malleabi- 
lity, lor instance, which would render it capable of supplying the place 
the iron, or the copper, in the construction of various economical 
vessels and instruments; yet, from the small quantity in which it oc- 
curs in the world, the supply of it would soon be either exhausted, or 
its price would be so enhanced that it could not be purchased except 
by the rich. And, even if the supply were inexhaustible, yet, from 
the softness of the metal, the vessels made of it would be compara- 
tively el little use; and from the low temperature at which it melts, 
it could noi be readily used for the generality of those purposes to 
which copper and iron are commonly applied. On the other hand, 
lei the eloper or the iron be as fusible as tin ; and let the tin be as 
refractory under the action of heat as iron and copper are: in that 
case, how could the tin he applied with any degree of economy to 
the suVface ol either oi ihe other two; while they themselves would 
be unfit, from their easy fusibility, to withstand that degree of heat 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



105 



to which they are necessarily exposed in many of the economical 
uses to which they are applied ? 

There remains to be considered one property of metals with re- 
spect to their fusibility, which is of the highest practical importance ; 
for on this property depends the possibility of uniting together por- 
tions of the same, or of different metals, without fusion of the metals 
themselves. If two metals be melted into one uniform mass, the 
compound is called an alloy ; and in the greater number of instances, 
if not in all, the alloy is more readily fusible than either of the com- 
ponent metals : and hence it easily becomes a bond of union be- 
tween the two metals, or different portions of either of them. Such 
an alloy, when so employed, is called a solder. In considering the 
present subject, we cannot overlook a remarkable analogy between 
metallic substances and building stones, with reference to one mode 
in which they may respectively be united to each other, so as to 
form one solid mass ; mortar being to stones what solder is to me- 
tals. Thus, in uniting two metallic surfaces by means of solder, it 
is requisite that the latter should be in a fluid state, or melted ; and, 
in uniting the surfaces of two bricks or stones by means of mortar, 
the latter must be, if not in absolutely a fluid, yet in a soft and yield- 
ing state : and the final hardening of each is the efficient cause of 
permanent union. The period indeed requisite for the due consoli- 
dation of the uniting medium is very different ; the solder becoming 
fixed in a few seconds, the mortar requiring some hours, perhaps 
days, for its consolidation: but, in the end proposed, there is no es- 
sential difference ; for the mortar, if originally tempered well, and 
well applied, as firmly unites the stones, as solder the metals : so that 
mortar might be called a slowly acting solder;. and solder, an ex- 
temporaneous or quickly acting mortar. 

It would appear a paradox, if not an absurdity, to affirm abruptly 
that a liability to rapid decay is among the most important proper- 
ties of any substance in general use : and yet this may be truly af- 
firmed of iron. For though, in one sense, its liability to rust dimi- 
nishes the-value of this useful metal, because it is consequently al- 
most impossible to preserve it very long in an entire state ; yet, in- 
directly, this property, though detrimental to individuals, is benefi- 
cial to the community: for, in the first place, the presence of iron 
ore is so general, and its quantity so abundant, that there is no pro- 
bability of any failure in its supply : and, in the next place, nume- 
rous branches of trade are kept in continued employ, both in working 
the ore, and in meeting the constantly renewed demand for imple- 
ments made of iron, owing to the rapid corrosion of this metal. 

Among the metals there is one, the history of which ought not to 
be overlooked on the present occasion, from the very circumstance 
that its value in a great measure depends on the absence of most of 
those properties which render all other metals valuable. Quicksilver 
is the metal in question : and what an anomaly does it not present in 



10G 



ADAPTATION OF MINERALS 



the o-eneral historv of metals; existing, under all common variations 
of temperature, in a fluid state, while all other metals, with which 
we are familiar, are, under the same variations, solid ; nor indeed 
are they capable of becoming fluid, but by an elevation of tempera- 
ture to which they are hardly liable to be exposed, unless designedly: 
lastly, in consequence of its fluidity, destitute of malleability and duc- 
tility ; which are among the most valuable properties of the metals 
taken collectively? This state of fluidity, however, is the very point 
on which the value of this metal in a great measure turns : for hence 
it is successfully employed for many purposes, to which, were it 
solid, it would be inapplicable. How valuable is its use in the con- 
struction of the common thermometer and barometer; the value, in 
the case of the former instrument, depending entirely on its fluidity, 
and on the physical characters of the fluid itself— the equable ratio, 
for instance, of its contraction and expansion under widely varying 
degrees of temperature ; and its property of remaining fluid through 
a greater range of temperature than any other known substance.* 
And, in the case of the barometer, what fluid is there which could 
supply the place of quicksilver, with any degree of convenience ? 
since, from the great specific gravity of this metal, a column of the 
perpendicular height of about, thirty inches, sufficiently answers the 
intended purpose; which column in the case of almost every other 
fluid, would amount to as many feet. And as, in such a case, the 
column must necessarily be contained in a glass tube, in order to 
make the alterations in its height visible, how w 7 ould it be possible to 
render such an instrument portable? and yet, if not portable, it would 
often be of no use when most wanted. 

In those numerous philosophical experiments in which it is requi- 
site to insulate portions of various gaseous substances, for the pur- 
pose of examining their properties, how could the experimentalist 
proceed without the use of the metal now under consideration ; which 
by its fluidity readily yields its place to the various kinds of gas which 
are to be transferred to vessels previously filled with the quicksilver ; 
and, having no chemical affinity for the greater number of gaseous 
substances, is calculated to retain them in an insulated and unaltered 
state for an indefinite length of time? nor let us forget to observe, 
how the properties of the metal, which is necessarily in contact with 
the gaseous substances in question, conspire with the properties of 
the -lass vessels containing these gaseous substances, to facilitate the 
observations of the philosopher: for, if the glass were not both a 
transparent body, and equally devoid as the quicksilver of any chemi- 
cal affinity for the gas contained in it, the metal itself would be of 

• Qiiicksilver does not become solid till exposed to a temperature of about se- 
venty degrees below the freezing point in the scale of Fahrenheit ; nor does it 
pass readily into a state of vapour till exposed to a temperature equal to nearly 
three hundred and seventy degrees above the boiling point of water, on the same 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



107 



little use for the purpose intended ; since we are not acquainted with 
any other substance that could supply the place of glass — with the 
exception perhaps of rock crystal ; which however could only be 
procured in small quantity anywhere, and could not be worked into 
a convenient form but at a most enormous expense. 

Section VII. 
Common Salt, fyc. 

It does not appear that the mineral kingdom contains a single 
species capable of being employed as food : but there is one mineral 
species, which indirectly contributes to the nourishment of many 
other animals as well as man ; and that is common salt: the flavour 
of which, to a certain extent, is not only grateful to the palate, but, 
practically speaking, mankind could not exist, or at least never have 
existed, without the constant use of it. Thus, though employed in 
very small quantities at a time by any individual, and almost exclu- 
sively for the purpose either of preserving or of rendering his food 
more palatable, this substance may fairly be classed among the prin- 
cipal necessaries of life : and, correspondently with this statement, 
we find that nature has supplied it in abundance, indeed in profusion 
often, in various parts of the globe : for, to say nothing of those ap- 
parently inexhaustible masses which occur among the solid strata of 
the earth, and which have been constantly quarried through succes- 
sive ages from the earliest records of history, the ocean itself is a 
never-failing source of this valuable substance. In other instances 
salt springs afford the means of a ready supply : and, throughout a 
considerable part of the sandy districts of Africa and Asia, the soil 
itself abounds with it.* The abundant supply of common salt coin- 
cides with its extensive utility. It is every where indispensable to 
the comforts of man ; and it is every where found, or easily obtained 
by him. And, though not to the same extent, the same observation 
holds with reference to many other natural saline compounds. Thus 
carbonate of potash, and natron or carbonate of soda, alum, borax, 
sal ammoniac, and sulphate of iron, or green vitriol, which are most 

* It does not belong- to our present purpose to describe the common processes by 
which the salt is obtained either from the sea, or from any other liquid that may 
hold it in solution : but the following account of a particular process, for this pur- 
pose, so well illustrates the ingenuity of the human mind in taking 1 advantage of 
natural hints, if the expression may be permitted, that no excuse can be necessary 
for its introduction. In Guiana there is a very common species of palm, the flowers 
of which are enveloped by a sheath capable of holding many pints of water ; and 
the density and general nature of the sheath is such, that the water contained in it 
may be heated over a fire without destroying its substance : and the Caraibs actually 
employ these sheaths, in evaporating the sea-water for the purpose of obtaining a 
quick supply of salt. (Diction, des Sciences Nat. torn, xxxvii. p. 283, 4.) 



108 



ADAPTATION OF VEGETABLES 



extensively useful salts in many processes of the arts, are either found 
abundantly in various parts of the world, or may be obtained by 
very easy means : while a thousand other saline compounds, which 
are rarely of any practical importance, are scarcely known to exist 
in a native state. And it is probable that that useful metal, copper, 
in consequence of its frequent occurrence in a native state, was em- 
ployed long before the mode of reducing iron from its ores had been 
discovered"; as Werner (and Hesiod, and Lucretius, ages before him*) 
conjectured. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

ADAPTATION OF VEGETABLES TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 

Section I. 



General Observations on the Vegetable Kingdom. 

The vegetable kingdom has this distinction with reference to the 
subject of the present treatise, that its productions are amongst the 
first objects that forcibly attract the attention of young children ; 
becoming to them the source of gratifications, which are among 
the purest of which our nature is capable ; and of which even 
the indistinct recollection imparts often a fleeting pleasure to the 
most cheerless moments of after-life. 

Who does not look back with feelings, which he would in vain 
attempt to describe, to the delightful rambles which his native fields 
and meadows afforded to his earliest years 1 Who does not re- 
member, or at least fancy that he remembers, the eager activity 
with which he was used to strip nature's carpet of its embroidery, 
nor cease to cull the scattered blossoms till his infant hands were 
incapable of retaining the accumulated heap? Who, on even 
seeing the first violet of returning spring, much more on inhaling its 
sweetness; or in catching the breeze that has passed over the 
blossom of the bean or of the woodbine, does not again enjoy the 
very delights of his early childhood? 

ft may be said indeed that the pleasure of such recollections is 
far the most part of a moral and intellectual nature; and, so far, is 

. . EPT KAI HM, line 151. 

Posleriua Fern vis est, iErisque reperta. 
Et prior /Kris crat quam Ferri cognitus usus. 

Lucret. V. 1285. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



109 



foreign to our present object : but the pleasure of the original en- 
joyment appears to be principally of a physical character ; and is 
no doubt intended to produce, at the moment, a highly beneficial, 
though merely physical effect : for while the eye of the child is at- 
tracted by the unexpected forms and colours of the plants and 
flowers presented to his view, and his mind is instigated to gratify 
the eager desire of possessing them, he necessarily subjects his limbs 
to that degree of exercise and fatigue, which contributes to the 
general health of his body. Nor let such pleasures be undervalued 
in their consequence: they give that moderate stimulus to the whole 
system, which even the early age of infancy requires ; and, by shut- 
ting out the listlessness that would arise from inactivity, they be- 
come eventually the source of moral and intellectual improvement. 

With reference to the primary wants of mankind at large, the 
vegetable kingdom is of the highest importance. Let the earth 
cease to produce its accustomed fruits, and every form of animal 
life must be soon annihilated : for all animals either derive their 
nourishment directly from vegetable food, or feed on those animals 
which have themselves fed on vegetables. And, without the aid 
of the same productions, we should be deprived of various sub- 
stances which are now employed for clothing, and fuel, and the 
construction of our habitations. But the adaptation of the vegetable 
kingdom to the arts and conveniences of life is visible in numerous 
other instances : and the principal difficulty, in illustrating this point, 
is the selection of appropriate examples, and the order of their ar- 
rangement. 

Section II. 

The Cocoa-nut Tree, including the formation of Coral Reefs. 

For the purpose of introducing in a more particular manner the 
general subject of this chapter, and as an impressive example of 
the important ends which nature often accomplishes by the simplest 
means, I propose to consider the mode in which the cocoa-nut tree 
is spontaneously propagated in the coral islands of the Indian 
Archipelago and elsewhere : nor will it be an undue anticipation of 
a subsequent department of this treatise, if I previously give a brief 
description of the process by which those islands have themselves 
been brought into existence. The account of their origin indeed 
belongs more strictly to the history of the animal than of the vegeta- 
ble world ; but the two subjects are so naturally connected, that it 
would be injudicious to separate them. 

It may be collected from the observations of the French navi- 
gator, M. Peron, (Ann. du Mus. torn. vi. p. 30, &c.) that almost all 
those countless islands of the Pacific Ocean, which are found to the 

10 



110 



ADAPTATION OF VEGETABLES 



south of the equator between New Holland and the western coast 
of America, are either entirely or in part made up of coral : and all 
the adjacent ocean abounds with coral reefs, which, constantly 
augmenting, are constantly changing the state of bays, and ports, 
and gulfs ; so that new charts are continually required for the same 
coasts. From Barrow also it appears, (Barrow's Cochin China, p. 
167,) that the formation of coral reefs or isles is very common in 
the tropical parts of the Eastern and Pacific Ocean. And Captain 
Flinders says that the quantity of coral reefs between New Holland 
and New Caledonia and New Guinea, is such, that this might be 
called the Corallian Sea. (Flinders's Voyage, vol. ii. p. 314). 

Many more references might be made, to others as well as the 
above-mentioned voyagers, in order to show that the formation of 
coral islands is effected by nature on a very extensive scale: but, 
for the present purpose, the preceding references may be considered 
sufficient. Let us now therefore describe the general character and 
mode of formation of these islands. 

Forster says* that the low islands of tropical seas are commonly 
" narrow, low ledges of coral rock, including in the middle a kind 
of lagoon; and having here and there little sandy spots, somew 7 hat 
elevated above the level of high water, on which cocoa-nuts 
thrive :" correspondent with which description is the account given 
by Captain Cook, on the occasion of discovering one of these coral 
reefs ; which was at first mistaken by him for land. " This proved 
to be," he says, " another of those low or half-drowned islands, or 
rather a large coral shoal, of about twenty leagues in circuit. A 
very small part of it was land, which consisted of little islets ranged 
along the north side, and connected by sand-banks and breakers. 
These islets were clothed with wood, among which the cocoa-nut 
trees were only distinguishable. We ranged the south side of this 
shoal at the distance of one or two miles from the coral bank, 
against which the sea broke in a dreadful surf. In the middle of 
the shoal was a large lake, or inland sea, in which was a canoe 
under sail." (Cook's Voyage, 4to. 1777. vol. i. p. 141, 142.) 

Coral, considered as an individual substance, is a natural form of 
carbonate of lime, produced by an animal of the polype kind. The 
particles of carbonate of lime, however produced, are cemented 
together so firmly by a glutinous secretion of the same animal, as 
in acquire a degree of consistence, which not only forms a safe 
habitation for a race of animalcules, from their soft texture most 
obnoxious to external injuries; but which is calculated to resist the 
Ml most action of the sea, and in many instances to protect the 
original surface of the earth itself from its assaults. Thus almost all 
the tropical islands, which Cook saw in the South Pacific Ocean, 
are guarded from the sea, to a greater or less extent, by a reef of 

* Forster's Voyage round the World, p. 14, 15. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



Ill 



coral rocks, extending out from the shore to the distance of six 
hundred feet and farther ; and on this reef the force of the sea is 
spent before it reaches the land : and thus nature has effectually 
secured these islands from the encroachments of the sea, though 
many of them are mere points when compared with that vast 
ocean.* 

As the specific gravity of coral is greater than that of sea-water, 
the structure of a coral reef necessarily commences either from the 
natural bed of the ocean, or from the surface of some submarine 
rock ; and, as may be collected from the nature of the soundings 
among coral reefs, the whole structure is very frequently disposed 
in the form of a crescent ; sometimes even approaching to a circle. 
This crescent is, on the convex side, built up throughout in very 
nearly a perpendicular direction ; so as to form a wall, which is 
exposed to that quarter from whence a stormy sea most frequently 
prevails. The interior of the structure seems gradually to shelve 
off ; so that about the centre of the inclosed, or partially inclosed 
space, the sea is found of its natural depth. Correspondently with 
such an arrangement, it happens usually that the soundings gradually 
lessen from the centre of the area inclosed by a coral reef, towards 
the exterior ridge ; and then suddenly sink to two hundred fathoms 
or more. 

To the foregoing observations I shall subjoin the opinion of Cap- 
tain Flinders on the process observed by nature in the formation of 
coral reefs. " It seems to me," he says, " that when the animal- 
cules, which form the coral at the bottom of the ocean, cease to live, 
there structures adhere to each other by virtue either of the glutinous 
remains within, or of some property in salt water ; and the inter- 
stices being gradually filled up with sand and broken pieces of coral 
washed by the sea, which also adhere, a mass of rock is at length 
formed. Future races of these animalcules erect their habitations 
upon the rising bank, and die in their turn ; to increase, but princi- 
pally to elevate, this monument of their wonderful labours. The 
care taken to work perpendicularly, in the early stages, would mark 
a surprising instinct in these diminutive creatures. Their wall of 
coral, for the most part in situations where the winds are constant, 
being arrived at the surface, affords a shelter ; to leeward of which 
their infant colonies may be safely sent forth : and to this, their in- 
stinctive foresight, it seems to be owing, that the windward side of 
a reef, exposed to the open sea, is generally, if not always, the high- 
est part ; rising almost perpendicularly, sometimes from the depth 
of two hundred and perhaps many more fathoms. To be constant- 
ly covered with water seems necessary to the existence of the 
animalcules ; for they do not work, except in holes upon the reef, 
beyond low water-mark: but the coral sand, and other broken 



* Cook's Voyage, 1777, 4to. vol. i. p. 212, 



112 



ADAPTATION OF VEGETABLES 



remnants thrown up by the sea, adhere to the rock, and form a solid 
mass with it, as high as the common tides reach. That elevation 
surpassed, the future remnants, being rarely covered, lose their ad- 
hesive property; and, remaining in a loose state, form what is 
usually called a key upon the top of the reef. The new bank is not 
lono- in being visited by sea birds ; salt plants take root upon it, and 
a soil begins to be formed ; a cocoa-nut, or the drupe of a pandanus, 
is thrown on shore ; land birds visit it, and deposite the seeds of 
shrubs and trees ; every high tide, and still more every gale, adds 
something to the bank ; the form of an island is gradually assumed ; 
and, last of all, comes man to take possession."* 

In the base of a coral island of the above description, Captain 
Flinders distinguished not only the sand, coral, and shells, formerly 
thrown up, in a more or less perfect state of cohesion ; but also 
small pieces of wood, pumice-stone, and other extraneous bodies, 
which chance had mixed with the calcareous substances when the 
cohesion began, and which in some cases were still separable from 
the rock without much force.f Such sand-banks are found in dif- 
ferent stages of progress ; some being overflowed with every re- 
turning tide ; some raised above high-water mark, but destitute of 
vegetation ; some, lastly, habitable and abounding in trees. 

Let us here pause for a moment to contemplate the wonderful 
effect produced by apparently the most inadequate means. And 
wonderful indeed is the effect, even if the process above described 
were now to cease for ever ; but much more, if we look to its pro- 
bable extension : for, reasoning on what has already been accom- 
plished, and on what is at this moment rapidly advancing, it is evi- 
dently probable that a new habitable surface of land may be event- 
ually produced, equal in extent to the whole of Europe, and pro- 
duced by the agency of a tribe of animals, which occupy very nearly 
the lowest steps in the scale of animal creation, and which in every 
other respect are the most inefficient and helpless of creatures. For, 
fixed as they are, both individually and collectively, to a completely 
local habitation ; or, rather, buried as it were in a strong mass of 
coral, and literally 

"Each in his narrow cell for ever laid," 

their general appearance and mode of growth so little resemble the 
animal character, that, for a long time, many of the species were 
considered as of vegetable origin; and are, even now, very com- 
monly called zoophytes, or animated plants. 

Nor let us fail to observe, in the foregoing account, the physical 
fitness for each other of two very different departments of nature. 
The same geographical climate which gives birth to those animals, 



* Flinders Voyage, vol. ii. p. 115, 116. 



t Ibid, p. 116. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



113 



whose labours produce this previously unexpected habitable surface, 
gives birth also to those vegetables, which, at the same time that 
they are capable of growing on so loose and poor a soil, are capable 
besides of supplying its future inhabitants not only with nutritious 
food, both in a liquid and a solid form, but with materials for con- 
structing their habitations, and for many other useful purposes. 
And in the mean time the fowls of the air, and the very winds and 
waves, are all employed in administering to the beneficent intentions 
of Providence. Of little use would be a new habitable surface, were 
it never to be tenanted by human beings ; and in vain would man 
attempt to colonize that surface, were it barren of vegetable produc- 
tions : but the seeds of various plants, as we have seen in the fore- 
going descriptions, are either brought by birds, or drifted by the 
wind and waves, to a soil calculated to support them. 

Among the vegetable productions of coral islands, the cocoa-nut 
tree stands pre-eminent in value ; containing in itself nearly all those 
important properties, which are found at large in that natural family 
of plants, the palms : and valuable indeed are those properties, if we 
may rely on the accounts which have been given of them by dif- 
ferent authors ; and of the truth of those accounts there is no suffi- 
cient reason to doubt. Johnston,* speaking of the abundance of 
the cocoa-nut tree in India, where he says it occurs to a greater 
extent than the olive in Spain, or the willow in Holland, affirms 
that there is no part of the tree which is not applied to some useful 
purpose. Not only the cabins of the poorer natives, but large houses, 
are constructed entirely with materials afforded by this tree ; the 
trunk, when split, supplying rafters, &c. ; and the leaves, when 
plaited, making roofs and walls, which are impervious to wind and 
rain. The statement of Johnston is confirmed by captain Seely, in 
his account of Elloraf , 'who says that " when he was stationed at 
Goa, in 1809, he lived, as many others did, in a cocoa-nut leaf house ; 
and that although the period was in the very height of the monsoon, 
and the house was on the sea-coast, it was comfortable and warm. 
He believes that not a nail was used in the whole building : the rafters 
and supporters, &c. were fastened on with string made of the fibrous 
envelope of the cocoa-nut shell; the wood was the tree itself; the 
roof, walls, doors, and windows were the leaf." From the same 
anthority we learn that the fibres, enveloping the shell of the nut, 
may be woven into a cable by which ships of seventy-four guns have 
safely rode out heavy gales, when European cables have parted. 

In the Wernerian Memoirs, vol. v. p. 107, &c, is a very interest- 
ing account of the cocoa tree ; in which the author states that this 
tree will grow on the sand of the sea-shore, where scarcely any- 
thing else will vegetate : which corresponds with the account of an 
author above-mentioned, who, speaking of its growth, says, " radicem 

* Johnstonus de Arboribus, p. 146, &c. t London, 1824, 8vo. p. 284. 

10* 



Ill 



ADAPTATION OF VEGETABLES 



habet tenui spatio porrectam ; et quae quasi contra fidem terras in- 
h:rret."* And these statements are quite in accordance with the 
observations of captain Flinders. 

From other sources we learn that this tree bears fruit twice or 
thrice in the year ;f that the half-ripe nut contains sometimes three 
or four pints of a clear aqueous fluid, fragrant, and pleasant to the 
taste ; and that the nut itself, from its highly nutritious qualities, is 
used as an aliment in all inter-tropical countries.J In the volume of 
the Wernerian Memoirs above-mentioned, it is said that in 1813 the 
number of cocoa trees cultivated in Ceylon, along a line of coast of 
about 184 miles, was ten millions, and that that number was in- 
creased in following years; that this tree is fruitful from its eighth to 
its sixty-fourth year, and sometimes bears from eighty to one hun- 
dred nuts annually ; that elephants are fed on cocoa nut leaves; and 
that the ashes of the tree contain so great a proportion of potash, 
that the native washermen of Ceylon use them instead of soap.§ 

In the Nouv. Diet. d'Hist. Nat. torn. vii. p. 297, &c. it is stated, 
that, as in other palms, if the extremity of the sheath from whence 
the flowers of the cocoa arise be cut off while young, a white sweet 
liquor distils from it, which is used extensively as a beverage in India 
under the name of palm wine ; that this liquor, if concentrated by 
boiling, deposites a sugar ; that if exposed to the air it acquires vinous 
properties at the end of twelve hours, and at the end of twenty-four 
hours becomes vinegar; that an oil may be obtained from the nut, 
which is not inferior to sweet almond oil, and which is used almost 
exclusively in India ; and that the shell is formed into cups and va- 
rious other small articles. 

Almost all that has been said of the cocoa tree might be repeated 
of the date tree, making an allowance for the specific differences of 
the two : and with respect to the palms in general, Humboldt says it 
would not be easy to enumerate the various advantages derived from 
them. " They afford wine, vinegar, oil, farinaceous food, and sugar ; 
timber also, and ropes, and mats, and paper ; and," he adds, that, " no 
trees are so abundant in fruit, even without the aid of cultivation; 
and that the Franciscan monks, who live in the vicinity of palm plan- 
tations, near the banks of the Orinoco, observe that the native In- 
dians give evidence of a fruitful palm vear, by the corresponding im- 
provement in their health and appearance."|| 

1 shall conclude this part of the subject with a translation from the 
Hera Atluntica of Desfontaines, for the introduction of which no 

of 
iful 

lg impervious to the sun's rays, 



lOi <i yvuuntica ot Destontaines, lor the introduction of which i 
apology, I trust, is necessary. In describing the natural scenery 
groves ol palm, the author concludes with the following beautii 
passage: " Ihese palm-groves, being impervious to the sun's ra^ 



* Johnstonus de Arboribus, p. 145. 

t Nouv. Dictionni d'Hist. Nut. torn. vii. p. 297, 298 i Ibid 

§ Wern. Mem. vol. v. p. 11Q— 127. 

U Humboldt, Distrib. Geogr. Plant.' p. 216—240. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



115 



afford a hospitable shade, both to man and other animals, in a region 
which would otherwise be intolerable from the heat. And under this 
natural shelter, the orange, the lemon, the pomegranate, the olive, 
the almond, and the vine ^row in wild luxuriance ; producing, not- 
withstanding they are so shaded, the most delicious fruit. And here, 
while the eyes are fed with the endless variety of flowers which deck 
these sylvan scenes, the ears are at the same time ravished with the 
melodious notes of numerous birds, which are attracted to these 
groves by the shade, and the cool springs, and the food which they 
there find."* 

Section III. 
Vegetables as a Source of Food. 

It appears from various statements of authority, that the species 
of vegetables already known amount to about sixty thousand :f 
though there is reason to believe the actual number is above a hun- 
dred thousand :J and, from the general analogy of nature, we may 
fairly conclude that no species exists without its use in the economy 
of the earth. Of many indeed we witness the direct use, either for the 
various purposes of civilized society, or for the sustenance of animal 
life : but for the present let us confine our attention to the latter point 
in their history ; and, although whatever is adapted to the sustenance 
of animal life in general, is indirectly adapted in a great measure to 
the actual condition of man, and w r ould therefore justly come within 
the scope of this treatise ; yet, that we may not extend the subject 
too far, let us consider those species only which constitute the direct 
food of man ; subject indeed frequently to such culinary preparations 
as make our food not only more palatable, but also more nutritious. 

Among the numerous species of vegetables which supply food to 
man, by far the greater proportion consists of those which may be 
considered upon the whole as mere luxuries ; or at most, as afford- 
ing an agreeable and sometimes useful variety. Of those species 
which afford that kind of nutritive matter which is contained in what 
has been emphatically called the staff of life, or bread, the number is 
very small ; leguminous plants, and wheat, and rice, the fruit and pith 
and other parts of some of the palms and bananas, and such farina- 
ceous roots as the potato, &c. comprising nearly the whole amount. 

* Palmeta radiis solis impervia, umbram in regione calidissima hospitalem incolis, 
viatoribus, seque ac animantibus ministrant. Eorum denso sub teg-mine, absque or- 
dine crescunt aurantia, limones, punicse, olex, amygdali, vites, quae cursu geniculato 
ssepe truncos palmarum scandunt. Hae omnes fructus sauvissimos, licet obumbratse, 
ferunt ; ibique^mira florum et fructuum varietate pascuntur oculi ; simidque festivis 
avium cantilenis, quas umbra, aqua, victus alliciunt, recreantur aures." 

Desfontaines, Flora Atlantica, torn. ii. Append, p. 439. 
f Conversations on Vegetable Physiology, vol. ii. p. 108. 

* Decandolle, Theorie Elem. de la Botanique, 8vo. 1819, p. 25. 



110 



ADAPTATION" OF VEGETABLES 



It would be unnecessary to point out more particularly the impor- 
tance of some of the foregoing species, to any one at all conversant 
with the general mode of life of Europeans as to food : and a slight 
acquaintance with the history of the world is sufficient to show us, 
that, what wheat and potato are to Europe, rice is to a considerable 
portion of Asia, Africa, and America; and the products of the date 
and cocoa, palms, &c. to the inter-tropical countries of the whole 
earth. But there are some natural analogies afforded by those spe- 
cies, with reference to the animal kingdom, which are well worthy 
of observation. 

In the animal kingdom all those species which serve extensively 
for food, as oxen and sheep and swine among quadrupeds ; the tur- 
key, the common fowl, and the duck, &c. among birds ; and the 
salmon, cod, and herring, &c. among fish, are either naturally of a 
gregarious nature, or are easily kept together, by human means, in 
large bodies ; and therefore are much better adapted to the purpose 
of supplying food to man, than if they were either solitary, or scat- 
tered into small groups. And so it is with respect to the vegetable 
species above described : they are capable of being cultivated, gre- 
gariously, as it were, with comparatively little labour and attention. 
Thus in our own, and other European countries, the daily labourer, 
after his hours of hired work for others, can cultivate his own private 
field of wheat or of potatoes, with very little additional expense of time 
or trouble. And as to the cultivation of the tropical fruits, scarcely any 
labour is required for that purpose : so that to the less hardy natives 
of those climates the assertion of the poet is strictly applicable. 

"Fundithumi facilem victum justissima tellus," 

A further analogy is observable in the degree of fertility of the re- 
spective vegetables and animals. Among the animals which are des- 
tined for the food of man, the species are upon the whole prolific in 
proportion as they are either small in size, or inferior as to the nutri- 
tive quality of their flesh. The cow, which is a large animal, pro- 
duces one usually at a birth ; the sheep, very commonly two; swine, 
several. Poultry, which are comparatively small, are capable of 
rearing a numerous brood ; and fish, which are of a less nutritious 
nature, and generally smaller than quadrupeds, are still more prolific. 
.And, similarly, in the vegetable species which are destined for the 
lood of man, the numerical quantity of the product in a given area 
is greater or less, in proportion to the individual size of the fruit pro- 
duced. Dates, which are smaller than cocoa-nuts, are produced in 
greater number than the latter; and in a square yard of soil, a much 
greater number of grains of rice or wheat is produced than of roots 
ol the potato. 

Easily another analogy may be observed with reference to the 
palate. 1 he taste of the flesh of these species, which constitute to 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



117 



man the staple as it were of animal food, is acceptable to most pa- 
lates. And it is neither so rich as soon to cloy the appetite on the 
one hand, or invite it to luxurious indulgence on the other; nor so 
devoid of flavour, as to deter us from taking a proper quantity. And 
is it not the same with respect to those vegetable species, which are 
among the most ordinary and most necessary articles of our food 1 
If corn, and the potato, and the cocoa-nut, had the pungency of 
euphorbium, the nauseating quality of ipecacuan, the heat of pepper, 
or the luciousness of sugar, on the one hand, or the insipidity of pow- 
dered chalk on the other ; what an undertaking would it be to satisfy 
the craving of hunger with any one of those vegetables !* 

It will be vain to urge, in opposition to the foregoing position, that 
custom in particular instances renders many things tolerable, and 
even pleasing to the taste, which at first were disgusting ; for it would 
be found that in such instances custom has arisen from necessity, 
which often brings us acquainted with strange companions ; or from 
a depraved taste. None have ever consented voluntarily to feed on 
the flesh of horses, or of ravens ; and caviare will always be caviare 
to the multitude. 

Next in importance to those vegetable species which either afford 
the material of bread, or an equivalent for it, may be classed those 
which contribute partly to the nourishment of man, and partly to his 
health and solace. The human system certainly may be, and too 
often from necessity absolutely is, supported solely on the nutriment 
afforded by the former species : but if we view the actual state of 
society, we find that many vegetable species and products may now 
properly be classed among the necessaries of life, which for many 
ages remained either undiscovered, or were only locally known, or 
sparingly employed ; of which it will be quite sufficient to mention 
tea,f and sugar, and the potato. The sugar cane has for such a length 
of time usurped the prerogative of supplying the world with sugar, 
that other sources have been little considered : but even in cold cli- 
mates there are plants capable of affording it in considerable quanti- 
ties. There is, for instance, a species of maple cultivated in North 
America for the sake of the sugar obtained from its sap, which is 
capable of returning a very great profit to its cultivator ; of which 
the following document, copied from a note by Dr. Hunter in his edi- 
tion of Evelyn's Sylva, is a sufficient proof ; there being no reason to 
suspect any fraud. J It is added in the same note, that a single family, 

* On many occasions, however, pungent, or aromatic substances, as garlic, mus- 
tard, and spices, added to food comparatively of little flavour, as rice, &c. make it 
more palatable, and more easily digestible. 

j- During five years, beginning with 1826, about one hundred and fifty million 
pounds of tea were sold at the East India House, the average annual consumption 
being, according to the preceding statement, thirty million pounds. 

* " Received, Cooper's Town, April 30, 1790, of W. Cooper, sixteen pounds, for 
640 pounds of (maple) sugar, made with my own hands, without any assistance, in 



118 



ADAPTATION OF VEGETABLES 



consisting of a man and his two sons, on the maple-sugar lands be- 
tween the Delaware and Susquehanna, made 1800lbs of maple sugar 
in one season. The whole note, consisting of eight closely printed 
quarto pages, which appears to have been furnished by Dr. Rush of 
Pennsylvania University, is well worth the perusal.* 

If we consider the subordinate wants of the animal economy, we 
must in reason allow that those succulent fruits and vegetables, which 
are abundantly produced in almost all parts of the world, are destined 
by Providence for an important end with reference to the food of 
man. The very form and arrangement of our teeth, and the struc- 
ture of our stomach, show, that our system is naturally adapted to 
a mixed food : and although those of our teeth, which resemble the 
corresponding teeth of carnivorous animals, are so little developed 
as to make it in that respect doubtful whether nature intended us to 
live on flesh ; yet our stomach, and the rest of our apparatus of di- 
gestion, aided moreover by culinary preparation, certainly approxi- 
mate us fully as much to the carnivorous as to the herbivorous classes. 
It is obvious, moreover, that we have an ample array of teeth for 
cutting and grinding vegetable matter. This then being the case, we 
might antecedently expect that our natural taste would lead us to 
enjoy the flavour of vegetable, as well as animal food ; and that na- 
ture would supply us with a variety of the one as well as of the other ; 
for variety itself is salutary. 

And on this as on every occasion, we have an opportunity of 
seeing how Providence not only meets all the wants of mankind, but 
meets them in such a way as their local situation requires. Thus 
wheat, which contains a more strengthening principle of nutrition 
than the product of the palms and arrow-root, and is therefore bet- 
ter calculated to support the hardier efforts of the inhabitants of 
temperate or cold climates, will not grow readily in inter-tropical 
climates;f and, reciprocally, the palms and cognate plants of inter- 
tropical regions cease to be productive, if cultivated much beyond 
the tropics.J And the orange, the lemon, the water-melon," the 
grape, and the fig, which are easily cultivated in warm climates,§ 

less than four weeks ; besides attending to the other business of my farm, as pro- 
viding nre-wood, taking- care of the cattle, &c. 

" Witness R. Smith." u John Nicholls." 

Suva, 3d ed. by A. Hunter, York, 1801. vol. i. p. 190. 
* The tree commonly called the sycamore, which is really a species of maple, 
Erawfag lb p 200 occasionally been used to supply the place of malt in 

t Desfontaines, Flora Atiantica, tom. ii. Appendix, p. 438. 
, Wi rn. Mem. vol. v. p. 112. 

§ An interesting fact is related in the "Conversations on Vegetable Physiology" 
respecting an artificial mode of ripening the fig. In hot climates the fig-tree pro- 
duces two c rops of fruit : and the peasants in the isles of the Archipelago, where 
the fig-tree abounds, bring branches of wild fig-trees in the spring, which they 
apreaa over those that art cultivated These wild branches serve as a vehicle to I 
prodigious number of small msects of the genus called cynips, which perforate the 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



119 



by the abundance of their juice, are enabled both to allay the sensa- 
tion of present heat and thirst, and to repair the loss of that natural 
moisture of the body, which is continually passing from it in the 
form of either sensible or insensible perspiration. Even in the tem- 
perate climate of our own island, how many days are there, during 
the summer, in which such fruits are most refreshing : and to gra- 
tify the desire of that refreshment we import such species as are ca- 
pable of bearing a long voyage; among which the orange is a very 
principal article of import: nor would it be easy to calculate the 
myriads of that fruit which are annually consumed in this country. 
But the cognate fruit, the lemon, at the same time that, on account 
of the grateful and aromatic flavour of its juice, it is occasionally as 
eagerly sought as the orange, serves a still higher purpose : for the 
acid contained in it has been successfully employed, as an antidote 
and a remedy for one of the most dreadful diseases to which mari- 
ners are subject. Sea-scurvy in fact has all but disappeared since 
the general adoption of this remedy*. 



Section IV. 

Vegetables as applicable to Medicine. 

If vegetables are valuable on account of their power of affording 
sustenance and keeping the body in a state of health, they are also 
valuable on account of their power of restoring health where it has 
been impaired : for, however sceptical some minds may be as to the 
powers of medicine in general, and however ignorant even the most 
sagacious and experienced medicinal practitioners may be as to the 
precise mode in which any medical substance acts on the human 
constitution ; yet this at least is certain, that, in by far the greater 
number of instances, certain symptoms which indicate a disturbed 
state of the system are mitigated, and finally subdued, in consequence 
of the exhibition, to use a technical term, of certain reputed reme- 
dies. And it is open to the observation of almost every one, that the 
vegetable kingdom is the most fertile source, not only of the com- 
monest and least efficient, but of some of the most powerful medi- 
cines with which we are acquainted. Nor can we doubt, when we 
see similar effects resulting from the use of the same medicines in 

figs in order to make a nest for their eggs ; and the wound ihey inflict accelerates 
the ripening of the fruit nearly three weeks ; thus leaving time for the second crop 
to come to maturity in due season." (Vol. ii. p. 41, 42.) 

* It is probable that fresh vegetables of any kind are sufficient to prevent or to 
remove scurvy : for it is stated in Sauer's account of Billings's expedition, that that 
disease disappeared, even in so high a northern latitude as the Aleutan islands, as 
soon as the new vegetation sprang up in April (p. 276) ; and many other evidences 
of the same fact might be easily adduced. 



120 



ADAPTATION OF VEGETABLES 



individuals of very different constitutions, that the peculiar qualities 
of those substances, with respect to the effects they produce in the 
human system, were imparted to them by nature with a view to 
their application to those ends. 

It may have happened to any one in the course of the last few 
years, during which intermittent fever or ague has prevailed very 
generally in this country, to witness the severe nature of some symp- 
toms of that disease; paroxysms of dreadful rigour or shivering; 
nausea ; intense headache, with delirium ; paralytic affections of the 
limbs ; and burning heat of the whole body, terminating in profuse 
perspiration : and whoever has witnessed such symptoms, recurring 
in the same individual at stated intervals, has probably seen their 
return at once arrested by a few doses of Peruvian bark, in the state 
of powder ; the effect of which remedy, in subduing a violent dis- 
ease, compared with the small quantity of it employed for that pur- 
pose, has been not inelegantly though playfully illustrated by that 
passage of the Georgics, in which the husbandman is taught to al- 
lay the occasional contests and agitations of the bees, by scattering 
a handful of dust among them. 

" Hi motus atque hsec certamina tanta 

" Pulveris exigui jactu compressa quiescent." 

And, if the vegetable kingdom had failed to afford any other medi- 
cinal substance than this, mankind would have still had ample cause 
for thankfulness. 

But, even in the instances of those remedies from which nothing 
beyond a present or temporary alleviation is expected, the benefit 
usually accruing cannot easily be estimated at too high a rate : and 
one remedy there is, of this nature, for which mankind is indebted 
to the vegetable kingdom exclusively. How often has not opium 
lulled the most excruciating agonies of pain? how often has it not 
restored the balm of sleep to the almost exhausted body ; or quieted 
those nervous agitations of the whole system, the terrors of which 
none perhaps can duly appreciate but those who have experienced 
them J There are however diseased or unnatural states of the body, 
in which no direct remedy can be applied, and all soothing means 
would not only be ineffectual, but fatal: in such states those sub- 
stances, which are directly opposed in quality to opium, and irritate 
instead of soothing the surfaces to which they are applied, are va- 
luable precisely on that account: they rouse the svstem, for instance, 
from a state of lethargy, which otherwise wouldVobably terminate 
"i death ; or they stimulate the stomach to reject any substance of 
a poisonous nature, which may have been either intentionally or ac- 
cidentally ^ into it, and they thus contribute to the preser- 
vation ol life. Remedies of this character, though not exclusively 
belonging to the vegetable kingdom, are frequently afforded by it. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



121 



But, in enumerating the medicinal auxiliaries which mankind de- 
rive from the vegetable kingdom, let me not omit the restorative vir- 
tue of that gift of Heaven, which, though by its abuse it may intoxi- 
cate the mental faculties and undermine the general health of the 
body, is calculated most assuredly, when rightly used, not only to 
revive the drooping energies, but to rekindle the almost expiring 
spark of life. Survey the wretched subject of what is called typhus, 
while oppressed by those symptoms which justify the use of this re- 
storative ; when the glazed eye and squalid skin, the feeble circula- 
tion and muttering delirium, announce the near approach of death, 
unless the proper medicine be interposed ; and then watch the bene- 
ficial effect of this divine remedy. They who have witnessed the 
progress of typhus fever in some of its forms, and in individuals who 
have lived in crowded and ill-ventilated habitations, will acknow- 
ledge that in very many instances wine alone has, humanly speak- 
ing, rescued the patient from the grave. 

Nor will it be irrelevant to the general subject of this treatise to 
consider the natural origin of wine : by which I mean, not the mode 
or time of its discovery ; either of which it would be as useless as 
vain to attempt to investigate, since this liquid was in common use 
at a period long antecedent to history : but by its natural origin I 
mean the circumstances under which it is usually produced. There 
is a law in nature, by which organised bodies, vegetables as well as 
animals, are disposed to undergo spontaneous decomposition very 
soon after they have ceased to live ; the ultimate result of which is, a 
resolution into their elementary principles; in other words, they pu- 
trefy and perish. But even in this state, in which they are deprived 
of all their former properties, they administer to the good of man ; 
and, under the name of manure, are known as the principal means of 
fertilizing the ground;, from whence all his food is ultimately obtain- 
ed. The circumstances, however, which accompany this change in 
vegetables, differ very much from those which attend the correspond- 
ing change in animals ; and may be well illustrated by a reference to 
the process of making any common wine. 

If a sufficient quantity of the juice of ripe grapes, or of any other 
saccharine fluid, be exposed to a moderately warm temperature, an 
internal movement of its particles soon begins to take place ; which 
is technically called fermentation : and during the period when this 
is going on, the sugar of the liquor is, in part, converted into wine. 
If the fermentation be now arrested by the proper means, the whole 
mass of the liquid may be preserved in nearly the same state for a 
longer or -shorter period, in proportion to the quantity of wine con- 
tained in it : but if, after the vinous fermentation, as it is called, has 
been completed, the temperature be to a certain degree increased, 
the wine is converted into vinegar by a continuance of the process 
of fermentation : and, ultimately, the acid taste and odour of the vine- 

* 11 



122 



ADAPTATION OF VEGETABLES 



gar are lost; and the whole mass of the liquor becomes first vapid, 
and then putrid. 

That such a process of putrefaction should take place in organised 
bodies after their death, might in reasoning be antecedently expect- 
ed ; for the purpose of administering to the growth of their succes- 
sive generations in the case of vegetables ;* and to prevent the in- 
definite accumulation of so much dead and useless matter in the case 
of animals : but we could not have anticipated, that, while animal 
matter at once passes into a state of putrefaction, vegetable matter 
should previously pass through two intermediate states ; accompa- 
nied with products which in their nature differ both from each other, 
and from the source from which they were derived : both, however, 
as we might very reasonably expect from the known wisdom and 
beneficence of the Creator, of the highest importance to mankind. 

From wine, to say nothing of the advantages resulting from its 
proper use in its common state, is derived that useful fluid called 
alcohol, or spirit of wine : among the most valuable properties of 
which, may be ranked its power of dissolving resin, and other 
vegetable principles ; and of preserving organized matter from the 
putrefactive process. In consequence of the former power, it is 
employed to extract from various vegetables some of those parts 
in which their medicinal virtues reside ; and to preserve them in a 
convenient form for immediate use, at any moment, under the 
technical name of tinctures. And with respect to its importance 
as a preservative of animal and vegetable matter, but particularly 
of the former, I need only point out any one of those collections of 
anatomical preparations contained in the museums of every medi- 
cal school in Europe. But if any single instance of its application 
to this purpose be demanded, who can hesitate to name that as- 
tonishing proof of the genius and industry of the great English 
physiologist, John Hunter, the Collection preserved in the Royal 
College of Surgeons'? on the pedestal of whose bust, placed within 
the wa Is of the museum of that college, might well be inscribed, 
as 1 believe has been often suggested, those appropriate words, 

"Cujus monumentum si quaeras, circumspice." 



Section V. 

V egetables as applicable to the Arts, fyc. 

In considering the application of natural substances to the va- 
nous purposes of life, it is often interesting to compare the simpli- 

• " Naud igitur penitus pereunt quscunque videntur : 
Quando almd ex alio reficit Nature, nec ullam 
Kern g.gm patitur, nisi morte adjutam aliena." 

Lucret. I. 263 — 5. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



123 



city of the orginal contrivance -with the complicated manipulations 
of the process by which, at the present day, a material, destined for 
a specific use, is brought into a fit state for that use. Let fine 
writing-paper be taken as an instance ; and let us compare the his- 
tory of a piece of such paper with that of the simple material on 
which many Oriental manuscripts are written — the mere leaf of a 
tree, probably some species of palm, — which after having been cut 
into the requisite size and form, seems to have undergone no other 
preparation than simple pressure ; partly with the view of forcing 
out its natural moisture, and partly of smoothing its surface. How 
different the history of the paper that is daily fabricated in any of 
the large manufactories of this country ; and how little would its 
origin and numerous changes of state be conjectured from its pre- 
sent appearance ! Heaps of linen rags of every colour, when in- 
deed that colour can be distinguished through the dirt which ad- 
heres to them, are brought from almost every quarter of Europe ; 
each rag having probably been part of some article of dress, which 
as it grew viler by use, passed from a more to a less respectable 
possessor ; till it at length became the tattered and threadbare co- 
vering of the poorest mendicant. 

From such a material is the finest paper made: and, in the com- 
mencement of the process, each individual rag undergoes an exa- 
mination with respect to its size, and is cut into two or more pieces 
according to that size. Separate heaps are then mechanically 
shaken together, and sifted, in order to clear them from adhering 
dust : they are subsequently washed, mechanically divided into small 
shreds, bleached, then thrown into vats of water, and there reduced 
to a fine pulp by the application of powerful machinery. This pulp, 
by very delicate yet simple means, is kept in a state of close and 
equable diffusion over an even surface, and is made to pass between 
successive pairs of smooth metallic cylinders ; all of which, by 
pressing out the moisture of the pulp, bring its particles more closely 
together, and thus tend to give it the requisite degree of firmness 
and cohesion; the last pair being heated sufficiently to dry the 
paper during its passage between them. 

Such are the numerous and elaborate processes, by which a heap 
of sordid rags is converted into the beautiful material of which we 
have been speaking. And if, to the accumulated processes to 
wdiich each rag is submitted during its fabrication into paper, be 
added its previous history, as the cultivation and subsequent dress- 
ing of the flax of which it was made, the formation of the fibre of 
the flax into thread, the weaving of the thread into linen, and, in the 
majority of instances, the dying of the linen ; if all these points be 
collectively considered, what food for a reflecting mind does not the 
minutest particle of the resulting paper afford ! 

Many plants are capable of yielding a colouring matter, which 
by chemical means may be readily made to combine with various 



124 



ADAPTATION OF VEGETABLES 



substances, as linen, woollen, silk, and leather. This property, 
which sometimes resides in the stem and branches, sometimes in the 
leaves and flowers, may be classed among those properties of plants, 
which, if we consider the actual state of society in all the civilized 
parts of the world, are productive of the greatest advantage to 
mankind. Hence, for instance, has arisen an art, the art of dying, 
which not only opens a wide field of employment to a numerous 
class of workmen, in every large city; but gives a degree of ac- 
tivity to general commerce, which cannot but surprise the mind of 
any one previously ignorant of the circumstance. Thus the quan- 
tity of indigo, accumulated in the extensive repositories of the East- 
India Company, is frequently so great as to make the occasional ob- 
server wonder that it should ever find a market: and the following 
statement will show how important this single substance is as an ar- 
ticle of commerce. During the last five years, the quantity of in- 
digo imported into London amounts to at least one hundred and 
twenty thousand chests; the average weight of the contents of each 
chest equalling 270 lbs., and the average price of each pound being 
five shillings. The estimated value therefore of the indigo con- 
tained in the 120,000 chests would be rather more than eight mil- 
lions sterling. 

If I am correct in supposing that blue, red, and yellow, are the 
colours most abundantly supplied by vegetables, it cannot fail to 
strike a mind of the least reflection, that these are precisely the ele- 
mentary colours which a dier would have antecedently selected, 
in order to be enabled to practise his art to the greatest advantage ; 
since from these three, all other colours or tints may be obtained. 
And with respect to black, which must practically be considered as 
a distinct colour, though not admitted as such theoretically, it is 
worthy of observation, that, although scarcely any vegetable sub- 
stance yields it directly; yet, by the intervention of almost any 
form of iron, and this metal is in some shape or other present every- 
where, it may readily be produced from a very numerous class of 
vegetable substances. In almost every instance where a vegetable 
substance has an austere and bitter taste, it will with iron give a 
• he of a black colour. Thus the bark of the oak, and of many 
other trees, and that vegetable excrescence called the gall-nut, 
produce an ink by the addition of any saline form of iron. 

From the earliest and least civilized times, and through every 
intermediate stage of society to the present period of refine- 
ment, the productions of the vegetable world have been in constant 
requesl for the most common purposes of life. The simplest dwell- 
ing no1 only of the uninstructed savage, but of the peasantry of 
many parts oi modern Europe, are constructed almost entirely of 
wood; the simplest implements of husbandry, the plough, the spade. 

the hoe, could hardly be employed without the aid of a wooden 
frame-work or handle : and the same observation holds good with 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



125 



reference to the tools of the most necessary arts of life. How great 
would be the inconvenience, and how increased would be the labour 
of the carpenter, or the smith, or the mason, if, instead of wood, the 
handles of his implements were of iron! Nor are substances of 
vegetable origin of less importance, or less generally employed, in 
many of the higher arts of life. Examine the structure of a man of 
war — its hulk, of oak ; its masts, of fir ; its sails and ropes, of flax ; 
its caulking, of tow and of tar. All is of vegetable origin from 
the top-mast head to the keel itself. With the exception indeed 
of the iron which is occasionally used in the construction, no 
metallic substance is necessarily employed ; for the copper sheathing, 
though highly useful, is certainly not necessary. 

It would require volumes to describe all the economical uses to 
which vegetables are applied. How many important trades arise 
from this source. How many families, now existing in opulence, 
originally derived their surnames from their occupation, and that 
occupation connected with vegetable materials; for instance, Cooper, 
Carpenter, Dier, Tanner, Turner, Wheeler, Weaver, Barker, Hay- 
ward, Gardener, Cartwright, Miller, Fletcher, Bowyer ! 

And then, to answer the various purposes to which they are to 
be applied, how widely do the qualities of different vegetable pro- 
ductions differ from each other! How well the rigid fibre and 
compact texture of the oak enable the bulky vessel to resist the 
buffeting of the waves! The ash, the beech, the fir, the yew, each 
has those appropriate qualities which make it individually preferable 
to the rest. The flexibility of the hemp and flax renders them capa- 
pable of being woven and formed into sails and cordage ; and, ex- 
posed as the sails and rigging are to the vicissitudes of the weather, 
how well are they protected by being covered over with tar, itself 
of vegetable origin ! 

Some woods very readily split with that regularity of surface 
which we observe in common laths ; and of the utility of that kind 
of material in almost every kind of building no one can well be igno- 
rant. Other woods, as the willow, very readily bend, with a con- 
siderable degree of elasticity, in every direction ; and hence are of 
value in the fabrication of what is known under the general name of 
w r icker-work.* 

In this department, again, though not to the same extent as in the 
case of some of the metals, is seen the effect of human labour in 
advancing the value of the original material. Compare, for in- 

* The art of making wicker-work is often successfully cultivated at a very early 
period of civilization. Thus, in the neighbourhood of California, some of Captain 
Beechey's officers were supplied with *' water brought to them in baskets, which 
the Indians weave so close, that, wften wet, they become excellent substitutes for 
bowls." (Beechey's Voyage, p. 385.) And we know that, not long after the 
conquest of Britain by Caesar, the ornamental wicker-work of the natives was high- 
ly prized at Borne. 

11* 



120 ADAPTATION OF VEGETABLES 

stance, the mercantile value of a piece of fine lace, with the original 
value of the material of which it is made. 

There are many plants, which, though they neither produce fruit 
of any value nor are capable of being applied to any of the common 
purposes of the arts, are yet of the highest value as a natural de- 
fence to cultivated lands against the incursions of cattle; and some- 
times even against the attacks of disciplined troops. 

The quickset of our common hedges is an instance of the former 
application ; and of its utility in this country no one can doubt, 
unless he happen to live exclusively in those districts, as in certain 
parts of the Cotswold and similar ranges of hills, where stone sup- 
plies a more ready material for a fence. Of the extent of its ap- 
plication, it would not be easy to make a correct estimate : but, 
when we consider how many public roads, and how many private 
enclosures are bounded by a fence of quickset, it becomes probable 
that the linear extent of hedges of this kind is, in England alone, 
equal to many times the circumference of the whole earth. In de- 
scribing one of the most important fortresses in the Deccan, Captain 
Seely, in his account of the temples of Ellora, states that the town, 
which stands about 1020 yards from the fort, is surrounded by a 
hedge of prickly pear, nearly eighteen feet high, and thick in pro- 
portion. This natural defence round towns and villages on the 
western side of India is very common ; and it offers to a predatory 
body of horse or foot a formidable barrier: for the sharp and long 
thorns, which project from the stem and leaf, not only act as an 
immediate defence; but, if broken off, they exude a liquid which 
often produces severe inflammation:* 

In a part of Normandy, lying between Caen and Falaise, is a 
district called " Le Socage" (petit bois), which " derives its name 
from the high and bushy hedges with which it abounds ; and which 
are designed to ifford shelter from the stormy winds of the Atlantic. 
1 here are but few trees in those parts ; but the hedges, being from 
eight to ten feet in height, are sufficient to protect the crops from 
the boisterous sea-breezes : and they thence bear the name of brise- 
vent."-f 

The last point in the history of vegetables which I propose to 
consider is their application as fuel; and many nations entirely 
derive their supply of fuel, for culinary and other domestic purposes, 
from the vegetable kingdom alone: and even where such a supply 
is in a great measure needless, on account of the abundance of coal, 
yet, for many purposes, various forms of wood, either in a recent 
^ a rharrcd state, are preferred, on account of the injurious 
eftcta arising from the sulphur with which coal is usually contami- 

1 • mthe heating oi bakers' ovens, for instance, in 'the drying 
" l m *lt. and io numerous processes of the arts. Around the shorel 



* P. 522 

1 Conversations on Vegetable Physiology, vol. ii. p. 232. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION' OF MAN*. 



127 



of the Arctic Ocean, where scarcely any traces of native vegetation 
are observable, the inhabitants are amply supplied by drift-wood 
(Sauer's account of Billings's Expedition, p. 104 — 259). And Cap- 
tain Beechey says, that drift-wood is to the Esquimaux what forests 
are to us ; being in such abundance and variety, that the inhabitants 
have the choice of several sorts of trees. All this drift-wood about 
the mouths of rivers, on the north coast of America, appears to be 
brought down by those rivers from the interior of America : but 
from the occurrence of many floating trees to the southward of 
Kamchatka, and from other circumstances, it is probable that much 
of the drift-wood, found at a distance from the mouths of rivers, 
comes very far from the southward, (p. 575 — 580). 

Nor does the benefit, arising from vegetable forms of fuel, termi- 
nate with their consumption. The residuary ashes are useful, as a 
manure for the land, on account of the alkaline matter which they 
contain : and that alkaline matter is also to many a poor peasant a 
substitute for soap ; the lixivium, or ley, which may be obtained by 
filtering water through the ashes, owing its detergent quality to the 
alkali which it has dissolved in its passage. In those parts of the 
world indeed, as in North America, for instance, where it is re- 
quisite to clear the land of wood, for the purpose of bringing it into 
cultivation, the ashes of the forests, which are necessarily burned 
for this purpose, afford an enormous quantity of alkaline residuum ; 
and this is the source of much of t that alkali of commerce, which, 
from having been obtained by evaporation of its solution in iron 
pans or pots, is commonly known under the name of potash. 

That other alkali of commerce, called soda, is derived from a 
similar, though indeed a much more humble source ; for, in this 
case, the alkali does not result from the combustion of stately and 
aboriginal forests, but from the combustion of heaps of sea-weed ; 
which, in various parts of the coast of Europe, has been collected 
from the surfaces of the adjoining rocks.* 

* In some instances loose stones are intentionally placed on the sea-beach for the 
purpose of affording a substratum for the growth of various sea-plants, which attach 
themselves to the stones so placed. 



128 



CHAPTER IX. 



ADAPTATION OF ANIMALS TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 

Section I. 

General Observations on the Animal Kingdom, 

The same remark may be made with regard to the general utility 
of animals, which has been made in the case of vegetables : for we 
have sufficient reason for believing, that, among the myriads of 
species of animals which exist upon the face of the earth, there is not 
one which does not act an important part in the economy of nature.* 
And yet, if it be correctly stated that out of about a hundred thousand 
species of animals, the number supposed to have been hitherto dis- 
covered, eighty thousand are of the class of insects ;f it will be evi- 
dent that the mass of mankind is ignorant of the very existence of 
nearly four fifths of the whole animal kingdom : for, with the excep- 
tion of the fly, the bee, the wasp, the ant, and perhaps ten or twelve 
more species, few but professed naturalists are acquainted with the 
specific differences of this class of animals; so small are they in size, 
and so apparently insignificant to a common observer. But, if we have 
reason for believing that not a single animal species exists without 
its use in the general economy of nature, we have a certainty that 
there are many, the absence of which would be almost incompatible 
with the continuance of the existence of the human race. If, for in- 
stance, the duties of the shepherd and herdsman could no longer be 
exercised, in consequence of the extinction of the two species of 
which they have now respectively the care, into what misery would 
not the population of a great part of the world be plunged, cut off at 
once from some of the most substantial forms of animal food, and the 
most general and effectual sources of clothing ! 

And, if we consider the subject in another point of view, how fitly 
are the natures of these species, from the individuals of which such im- 
mense advantage accrues to man, accommodated to that end! If, 
lor instance, the sheep and the ox were carnivorous, instead of herbi- 
vorous, how could the species be preserved : or, supposing for a mo- 
ment that a sufficient quantity of animal food could be procured for 

» It igthe opinion of Mr. Scoresby, (Account of the Arctic Regions, vol. i. p. 
179, 180,) that the olive-green colour of the water, observable in many parts of the 
Greenland sea, is owing to the presence of numberless quantities of very small me- 
dus and otlu r minute animals. "These small animals," he says, "apparently af- 
t ird nourishment to the sepia:, actiniee, and other mollusca which constitute the food 
Of the whale : thus producing a dependant chain of animal life, one particular link 
o! which bemg destroyed, the whole must necessarily perish. 

f The number is probably greater. * ' 



ADAPTATION OF ANIMALS, ETC. 



129 



them, under that supposition how could it be conveniently distributed 
to the flocks and herds scattered over a thousand hills ; which now, 
without any consequent trouble to the shepherd or the herdsman, 
leisurely crop the grass, as they slowly traverse the surface from 
their morning to their evening range of pasture. 

Let us suppose, again, that the horse were to become extinct. In that 
event how greatly would be in a moment altered the condition of the 
whole civilized world! for by what other means could there be kept up 
that general communication, between distant parts of the same em- 
pire, the rapidity and facility of which contribute at the same time to 
national prosperity, and to individual wealth and comfort ; since that 
recent invention, the steam carriage, though capable of supplying 
the place of horses along the course of regular roads, would be in- 
applicable in most other situations 1 Consider, again, the position of 
contending armies, whose fate often is determined by the evolutions 
of united squadrons of this noblest of all the inferior animals ; and 
sometimes even by the speed of the individual charger whose rider 
conveys the command which is to determine those evolutions : or, to 
descend into less important though not less interesting scenes of do- 
mestic life, let us imagine, what we may perhaps have witnessed, the 
ecstacy of an afflicted parent, who has been enabled by the speed of 
this all but friend of man to reach the couch, and to receive the 
dying embraces of a beloved child ; or to obtain those means of hu- 
man aid, which haply may have averted the stroke of impending 
death. 

But in this, as in many similar instances, we can at once perceive 
(what we may always in reasoning presume) that an alteration in 
the constitution of any department of nature would be incompatible 
with that harmony of the whole, the existence of which is evident to 
all those who are capable of observing and interrogating philosophi- 
cally the phenomena of creation. And if it should be said that some 
species of animals have actually become extinct, and others are gradu- 
ally becoming more and more rare ; yet, in such instances, we shall 
find the fact to be either the result of a providential adjustment, if the 
expression may be permitted ; or, of the original rarity of the species 
themselves, as in the case of that uncouth bird the dodo ;* or, as might 

* It is not without reason that the epithet uncouth has been applied to the dodo ; 
for two distinguised naturalists, in their day, maintained for many years that such a 
form had never existed, but in the imagination of the painter. One of these indi- 
viduals however at length had an opportunity of inspecting the well-known speci- 
men of the head of the dodo, which is preserved in the Ashmolean Museum at Ox- 
ford ; and was then convinced that such a bird had existed. But so far was he from 
producing the same conviction in the mind of his friend, by the description of the 
specimen, that he incurred the charge of an intentional deception ; and the result 
was, that an interminable feud arose between them : for though they were attached 
to the same institution, and lived within its walls, (not indeed without other com- 
panions, or absolutely under the same roof, as their prototypes in the Eddystone 
light-house,) they never again spoke to each other. 



130 



ADAPTATION" OF ANIMALS 



possibly happen, with respect to that still more remarkable animal 
of New Holland, the ornithorhynchus paradoxus : in each of which 
instances the locality of the species appears to have been always ex- 
tremely limited. 

On the other hand there are species of animals, which, though so 
minute, and so far removed from common observation, as to be 
scarcely known to mankind at large, much less employed for any 
useful purpose, would yet be productive of great inconvenience were 
they permitted to increase indefinitely : and hence, although they 
may perhaps previously accomplish some important end in the 
scheme of nature, they are destined to be the food of other animals, 
which, being much larger than themselves, necessarily consume them 
in great quantity. There is hardly a bird, or a reptile, or a fish, the 
contents of whose stomach would not bear witness to the truth of 
the assertion just made : and even among quadrupeds there are 
many species, as the mole, the hedgehog, the manis, and the ant- 
eater, which, from the nature of their food, are grouped into a dis- 
tinct family, called insectivorous. 



Section II. 

Geographical Distribution of Animals, 

Among the strongest evidences of an intentional adaptation of the 
external world to the physical condition of man, may be classed the 
geographical distribution of animals, taken in connexion with certain 
points in their general history. Thus the elephant, which lives ex- 
clusively on vegetable food, is found naturally in those climates only, 
where vegetation is so luxuriantly abundant as easily to meet the 
large supply, which numerous individuals of such enormous bulk re- 
quire : and then the tractability and docility of the animal are such, 
that its amazing strength may be easily directed to forward the pur- 
poses of man ; and often is so directed, in the conduct of military 
operations, as well as on various ordinary occasions : and lastly, the 
increase of the species advances slowly; for, in by far the greater 
number of instances, only one individual is produced at a birth. Now 
had the elephant been equally adapted to colder climates, where vege- 
tation is comparatively scant, the difficulty of supporting the indivi- 
dual animals in such climates would have diminished the value of the 
species: or were elephants as intractable and indocile, as they are the 
reverse, what destruction would they not be continually dealing around 
them ; witness the scene which took place a few years since in a 
public menagerie of London ; where a company of musketeers was 
produced, in order to subdue a single individual of this species, 
Which had become infuriated from accidental circumstances! Or, 
lastly, had the elephant been as prolific as the swine, (and it should 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



131 



be observed that they are branches of the same natural order,) how 
could the increased numbers of individuals have been maintained, 
in the case of a species which is not naturally capable of emigrating 
to a different climate? 



Section III. 
The Camel. 

Of all animals, the camel perhaps is most exactly adapted both to 
those peculiar regions of the earth in which it is principally, if not 
exclusively, found ; and to those purposes for which it is usually 
employed by man : to whose wants indeed it is so completely ac- 
commodated, and apparently so incapable of existing without his 
superintendence, that while on the one hand we find the camel de- 
scribed in the earliest records of history, and in every subsequent pe- 
riod, as in a state of subjugation to man, and employed for precisely 
the same purposes as at the present day ; on the other hand, it does 
not appear that the species has ever existed in a wild or independent 
state. 

With scarcely any natural means of defence, and nearly useless 
in the scheme of creation, (as far as we can judge,) unless as the 
slave of man, it forms a remarkable parallel to the sheep, the ox, and 
other of the ruminating species ; which are also rarely, if ever, found, 
but under the protection of man, and to that protection alone are in- 
debted, indeed, for their existence as a distinct species. Let us com- 
pare then the form, and structure, and moral qualities of the camel, 
with the local character of the regions in which it is principally found ; 
and with the nature of the services exacted of it by man. 

The sandy deserts of Arabia are the classical country of the 
camel ; but it is also extensively employed in various other parts of 
Asia, and in the north of Africa : and the constant communication 
that exists between the tribes which border on the intervening sea of 
sand, could only be maintained by an animal possessing such qualities 
as characterise the camel — " the ship of the desert," as it has em- 
phatically been called. Laden with the various kinds of merchan- 
dise which are the object of commerce in that region of the world, 
and of which a part often passes from the most easterly countries of 
Asia to the extreme limits of western Europe, and from thence even 
across the Atlantic to America, this extraordinary animal pursues its 
steady course over burning sands during many successive weeks. 
And not only is it satisfied with the scanty herbage which it gathers 
by the way ; but often passes many days without meeting with a 
single spring of water in which to slake its thirst. 

In explanation of its fitness as a beast of burden, for such desert 
tracts of sand, its feet and its stomach are the points in its structure 



13*2 ADAPTATION OF ANIMALS 

which are principally calculated to arrest our attention : and its feet 
are not less remarkably accommodated to the road over which it 
travels, than is the structure of its stomach to the drought of the re- 
gion through which that road passes. The foot of the camel, in fact, 
is so formed that the animal would be incapable of travelling, with 
any ease or steadiness, over either a rough or a stony surface; and 
equally incapable is it of travelling for any long continuance over moist 
around, in consequence of the inflammation produced in its limbs 
from the effect of moisture. It is observed, by Cuvier, that these 
circumstances in its physical history, and not the incapability of bear- 
ing a colder temperature, account for the fact, that, while the sheep, 
the ox, the dog, the horse, and some other species, have accompanied 
the migrations of man, from his aboriginal seat in central Asia to 
every habitable part of the globe, the camel still adheres to the desert. 

And now observe how its interior structure meets the difficulty of 
region, where water is rarely found. As in the case of all other ani- 
mals which ruminate or chew the cud, the stomach of the camel con- 
sists of several different compartments ; of which one is divided into 
numerous distinct cells, capable of collectively containing such a 
quantity of water, as is sufficient for the ordinary consumption of 
the animal during many days. And, as opportunities occur, the camel 
instinctively replenishes this reservoir; and is thus enabled to sustain 
a degree of external drought, which would be destructive to all other 
animals but such as have a similar structure : nor is any other ani- 
mal of the old world known to possess this peculiar structure. But 
we pass to the inhabited regions of the Andes in the new world, we 
there meet with several species of animals, as the lama, the vigogna, 
and the alpaca, which, though much smaller than the camel, corre- 
spond generally in their anatomy with that animal, and particularly 
with reference to the structure of the stomach : they resemble also 
the camel in docility; and, to complete the parallel, they were em- 
ployed by the aboriginal inhabitants in the new world for the same 
purposes as the camel in the old. 

Of the two species of camel, the Bactrian and Arabian, the latter 
is that with the history of which we are best acquainted ; and though 
there is reason to believe, that, whatever is said of the qualities'of 
the one might with truth be affirmed of the other also, on the present 
occasion whatever is said, is referable to the Arabian species* The 
camel, then, not only consumes less food than the horse, but can sus- 

• The Bactrian species, which has two bosses on its back, is more peculiar to 
1 artary and northern Asia. The Arabian, which has only one boss, is not confined 
to the country from which it is named, but is the same species with that which pre- 
valla m northern Africa. As in the case of all domesticated animals the varieties of 
these two species are numerous : and it is a variety of the Arabian species, of a 
snuh height, to which the ancients give the name of dromedary, from its employ- 
ment as a courier: but in the magnificent work of St. Hilaire and Cuvier, (Hist. 
Nat tie Mammiferes,) the term dromedary is adopted, in a specific sense; for all the 
varieties of the Arabian camel. 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 133 



more fatigue. A large camel is capable of carrying from seven to 
twelve hundred weight, and travelling with that weight on its back, 
at the rate of above ten leagues in each day. The small courier 
camel, carrying no weight, will travel thirty leagues in each day, 
provided the ground be dry and level. Individuals of each variety 
will subsist for eight or ten successive days on dry thorny plants ; but 
after this period require more nutritious food, which is usually sup- 
plied in the form of dates and various artificial preparations : though, 
if not so supplied, the camel will patiently continue its course, till 
nearly the whole of the fat, of which the boss on its back consists, 
is absorbed ; whereby that protuberance becomes, as it were, obli- 
terated. 

The camel is equally patient of thirst as of hunger : and this hap- 
pens, no doubt, in consequence of the supply of fluid which it is capa- 
ble of obtaining from the peculiar reservoir contained in its stomach. 
It possesses moreover a power and delicacy in the sense of smell, (to 
that sense at least such a power is most naturally referable,) by 
which, after having thirsted for seven or eight days, it perceives the 
existence of water at a very considerable distance : and it manifests 
this power by running directly to the point where the water exists. 
It is obvious that this faculty is exerted as much to the benefit of 
their drivers, and the whole suite of the caravan, as of the camels 
themselves. 

Such are some of the leading advantages derived to man from the 
physical structure and powers of this animal : nor are those advan- 
tages of slight moment which are derived from its docile and patient 
disposition. It is no slight advantage, for instance, considering the 
great height of the animal, which usually exceeds six or seven feet, 
that the camel is easily taught to bend down its body on its limbs, in 
order to be laden : and, indeed, if the weight to be placed on its back 
be previously so distributed, as to be balanced on an intervening yoke 
of a convenient form, it will spontaneously direct its neck under the 
yoke, and afterwards transfer the weight to its back. St. Hilaire 
and Cuvier, from whom the substance of much of the preceding ac- 
count is taken, assert, that, if after having laid down and received 
the intended freight, the camel should find it inconveniently heavy, 
it will not rise till a part has been taken off ; and that, when fatigued 
by long travel, it will proceed more readily and easily if the driver 
sing some familiar tune. This however is a quality not peculiar to 
the camel. 

Considered only thus far in its history, the camel easily stands 
pre-emiment, as the most useful, among all the species of ruminating 
animals, in the bodily or mechanical services which it renders to 
man : it is almost indeed the rival of the horse, even when compared 
in a general point of view ; but more than its rival in its particular 
arena, the desert. The reindeer assists the individual wants of the 
Laplander bv conveying his sledge over the frozen surface of the 

12 



134 ADAPTATION OF ANIMALS 



snow: and the ox, on a more enlarged scale of labour, is employed 
in some countries in ploughing, or in the draught of heavy weights: 
but the camel was from time immemorial, up to a comparatively re- 
cent period, almost the sole intermedium of the principal part of the 
commerce of the whole world. Thus the spices and other rich mer- 
chandise of the East, being brought to the confines of Arabia, were 
conveyed on the backs of camels across the desert, and thence 
finding their way to the trading cities of Phenicia, while they yet 
flourished— and subsequently, after their destruction or decay, to 
Alexandria— they were distributed over the continent of Europe; 
enriching whole nations by the profits of the mere transfer: for 
thus Venice became not only the mistress of the Adriatic and Medi- 
terranean, but in a measure the arbitress of the whole world — 

"And such she was ; — her daughters had their dowers 
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East 
Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers. 
In purple was she robed, and of her feast 
Monarchs partook, and deem'd their dignity increased."* 

And when, in consequence of the discovery of the Cape of Good 
Hope, Alexandria ceased to be the main emporium of India and 
Europe, Venice declined in its riches and power ; and the Portu- 
guese, the Dutch, and lastly the English, acquired the political in- 
fluence which Venice had lost : so true is the observation of Sir 
William Temple, that whatever nation is in possession of the com- 
merce of India must necessarily have a preponderating influence in 
the affairs of the whole world.f 

But, although the route by the Cape has in a great measure super- 
seded that by Alexandria, the commercial intercourse carried on 
by means of the camel between opposite confines of the African 
and Asiatic deserts is still sufficiently extensive to make the impor- 
tance of that animal very considerable: so that even now, as ages 
and ages since, the riches of an individual are estimated by the 
number of camels he may possess : and he still uses his camels either 
in war, or for the transport of merchandise, or for the purpose of 
selling them.J 

* Childe Harold, Canto IV. Stanza 2. 

t For an account of the traffic between India and Europe, see Niebuhr, De- 
BWipt. de l'Arabie, p. 246, &c. 

lit cannot be considered an irrelevant, and certainly not in itself an unin- 
terestmg digression, here to observe, that there was a period in the commercial 
history ot England, within the last century even, when the horse served the pur- 
pose in this island, which the camel serves in Arabia and other parts of the world: 
and a distinct trade then existed that of the packer,- the occupation of which was 
to make up bales of goods in a form convenient for carriage on the back of the 
puch.horsr, and the trace of that mode of conveyance is still to be recognised in 
fte ngn o many inns in those parts of England where that mode of conveyance 
^ Prevalent. The same mode of conveyance is still very extensively employed 
in the north-eastern parts of the Russian dominions. . 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 135 

But it would be found, upon pursuing the history of the camel, 
that, while under the point of view which has been just considered, 
this animal contributes more largely to the advantages of mankind 
than any other species of the ruminating order, it scarcely is infe- 
rior to any one of those species with respect to other advantages 
on account of which they are principally valuable. Thus the Arab 
obtains from the camel not only milk, and cheese, and butter, but he 
ordinarily also eats its flesh, and fabricates its hair into clothing of 
various kinds. The very refuse indeed of the digested food of the ani- 
mal is the principal fuel of the desert ; and from the smoke of this 
fuel is obtained the well-known substance called sal ammoniac, 
which is very extensively employed in the arts ; and of which in- 
deed, formerly, the greater part met with in commerce was obtained 
from this source alone, as may be implied from its very name.* 



Section IV. 
Domestication of Animals. 

Nature has implanted a disposition in almost all animals to be 
domesticated by man ; and also a capability of becoming adapted 
to the various climates into which they accompany him ; and this 
disposition and adaptation necessarily extend the utility of these 
animals. There is, moreover, a consequent effect of domestication 
which is obvious to the commonest observer ; and which extends 
still further the benefits arising from the practice. In a state of na- 
ture, almost all the individuals of the same species of animals have, 
at any given period of their life, so close a resemblance to each 
other in form, size, and colour, that it is difficult to distinguish them 
at a little distance : but whenever any species has been long do- 
mesticated, or subjugated to the dominion of man, we usually find 
a proportional variety in those points. In proof of the foregoing 
assertion it will be sufficient to make a comparison between wild 
and tame rabbits; or between the domestic and wild cat ; and to 
refer to the differences observable in all those animals which are 
constantly under the care of man, as the horse, the dog, and the ox. 

The alteration which is produced in such cases, and which de- 
pends partly on climate and food and general regimen, but still 
more on the intermixture of the breed, is in many instances of the 
highest utility to man. Suppose for a moment that, in the case of 
the horse, any one of the existing varieties, the dray-horse for in- 
stance, or the Shetland poney, were from henceforth to determine 
the permanent character of the species ; and observe what would 

* Amnion, an ancient name of that part of the African desert situate to the west 
of Egypt, supplied formerly much of the sal ammoniac of commerce. 



186 



ADAPTATION OF ANIMALS 



be the consequence. What a waste of power, and what an incon- 
venient increase of trouble and expense, both with respect to stable- 
room and food, would there be in using the dray-horse, where the 
Shetland pony would be sufficient; and, on the other hand, how ill 
would the Shetland pony supply the place of the dray-horse, where 
enormous weights were to be set in motion ! 

Again, in the case of the dog, were all other varieties of this most 
useful animal to be annihilated, and only one form to prevail, its 
value would be proportionally lessened. If no variety of the dog 
existed but the small spaniel or the terrier, the miserable inhabitant 
of the north could no longer travel over his native tracts of frozen 
snow: nor could the victim of Alpine frost in Switzerland be hereafter 
rescued from a premature death, as he often now is, by the sagacity 
and strength of the mastiffs of that region. And, in another element, 
how many a life, which must have been otherwise lost, has been 
saved from a watery grave by the joint sagacity and powerful 
strength of the Newfoundland dog ! What would the shepherd do 
without the assistance which he now derives from his faithful com- 
panion? Instead of that compact phalanx which we have often 
seen advancing over the distant downs, under the direction of the 
shepherd's dog ; and from time to time, in obedience to its intelli- 
gent commander, still altering its direction in advancing, as steadily 
as a ship in sail obeys the helm ; we should see a confused and 
scattered multitude, which all the shepherd's skill and activity could 
hardly restore to order. 

Nor let me be accused of inhumanity if I here instance the assist- 
ance which is given to man by those varieties of the dog which are 
principally used in the chace. Those feelings, which would spare the 
inferior animals unnecessary pain, are ever to be respected in others 
and cherished in ourselves; as those feelings which delight in cruelty 
are to be abhorred : but undoubtedly the desire of inflicting pain is 
not the incentive to the pleasures of the chace ; and therefore, with 
reference to himself, the hunter is free from the charge of cruelty. 
With respect to the animal which is the object of the chace, the 
charge of cruelty is reasonably obviated by this highly probable 
consideration, that man can hardly inflict on the weaker animals a 
more cruel death than that, to which they are obnoxious by the 
very law of nature: for, ultimately, they will almost necessarily be 
hunted and destroyed by beasts of prey; or, if you suppose them to 
die either of disease or of old age, what misery must they not un- 
dergo in enduring this latter period of their life ! In fact, unless in 
l jj e ca . se oi acute disease, the occurrence of which in wild animals 
there is reason to think is extremely rare, they must, through mere 
helplessness, perish by hunger. 

An ethical discussion is to be avoided on the present occasion; 
and I shall only therefore observe, that, with respect to the infliction 
ol pain on the inferior animals, in the particular case now under 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



137 



consideration, the grand question is the consequent effect on our 
own moral feelings.* If we are conscious that we are inflicting 
pain, we shall do right to abstain from what otherwise would be an 
innocent amusement ; for such abstinence will be a legitimate exten- 
sion of the scriptural precept, " A righteous man regardeth the life 
of his beast :" and if, by neglecting the suggestions of our original 
feelings, we have blunted the edge of the moral sense, doubtless we 
are culpable in a high degree. And this probably was the case in 
the gladiatorial exhibitions of antiquity ; and is equally the case in 
the disgusting exhibitions of the bull-fight in Spain, and the more 
vulgar and not less disgusting spectacle of pugilistic engagements, 
or baiting of the bull, in our own country. But, omitting such pal- 
pably indefensible sports, it doubtless may be affirmed as a general 
truth that the amusements of hunting or of fishing are not accompa- 
nied by any consciousness of a wanton infliction of pain. And, 
although the occasionally concomitant habits of such sports may 
eventually blunt the benevolent feelings of our nature, we have not 
the least evidence that there is a necessary tendency in those amuse- 
ments to produce that lamentable effect. There then remains, in 
support of the propriety of such amusements, the argument from the 
healthiness of the stimulus which they communicate to the mind as 
well as to the body; thus invigorating both: while they act as a 
present recreation, which in some shape or other is required by all. 
But if the pursuit of smaller and weaker animals should appear ob- 
jectionable to any one, there still remain, in other countries at least 
if not in this, the wolf, the wild boar, and the tiger: and in subduing 
these, to which no one will probably object, the dog lends most 
effectual assistance to man. He is indeed of all animals the most ' 
undaunted and courageous. Mr. Burchell, who during his long re- 
sidence in southern Africa had frequent opportunities of witnessing 
the character of this faithful guardian of man, has asserted to the 
author of this treatise^ that he has, again and again, seen the fiercest 
and strongest animals shrink from the defiance of the dog; but he 
never saw the dog shrink from the defiance of any other animal.f 

* The same observation is applicable to philosophical experiments on living 1 ani- 
mals ; respecting" experiments of which nature Shakspeare justly observes, 

" Your highness 

Shall from this practice but make hard your heart." 

Cymbel. Act I. Sc. 6. 

f Linnxus, in enumerating- the characters of the lion, makes, by implication, a 
somewhat similar observation with respect to the dog 1 . " Leo esuriens prsedatur 
equis et aliis majoribus animalibus; — canibus coercetur." (Linn. System. Gmelin. 
torn. i. p. 76.) 

12* 



138 



ADAPTATION OF ANIMALS 



Section V. 



Animals as a Source of Food for Man, 

Although the inhabitants of very warm climates live principally 
and often entirely on vegetables ; in the colder climates animal food 
usually makes a part of the daily sustenance of all who are not op- 
pressed by poverty : and nature has not only provided amply for 
this want, but has afforded the easiest means of supplying it. The 
disposition of those animals, which afford the great bulk of the 
supply that is required, as the sheep, the ox, and the swine, is such, 
that they are not only disposed to live gregariously, but are readily 
brought under obedience, so as to be inoffensive either to the person 
or property of man : and their docility in this respect is particularly 
worthy of our attention, because, from the observations of M. Fre- 
deric Cuvier, (Mem. du Mus. torn. xiii. p. 419, 420,) it appears that 
herbivorous animals are not, as is generally supposed, naturally more 
mild and tractable than the carnivorous ; in fact they are by nature 
less mild and tractable. 

The flesh of all those species, which have been above-mentioned, 
is, generally speaking, acceptable to the human palate ; and is in a 
great measure necessary to the support of those who are habitually 
exposed to great exertions and fatigue : but there are many occa- 
sions on which such food could not with any convenience be ob- 
tained, even by those to whom the expense is not a matter of any 
consideration. In situations for instance which are far removed 
from any town, there are very few, with the exception of the pos- 
sessors of extensive landed property, who can be conveniently sup- 
plied with animal food from their own flocks and herds : and in the 
case of the crews of ships, which are accustomed to make long 
voyages, it would be utterly impossible to find room in any vessel 
for such a number of live animals, and still less for the food which 
those animals would require, as would be competent to supply the 
daily consumption of all on board. But in all these instances the 
difliculty is obviated by the preservative quality of common salt: 
lor we know that, by the aid of salted provisions, guarded by the 
regular use of vegetable acids, a ship's crew may be maintained in 
good health for an indefinite length of time. 

And then, with reference to the general question, there are almost 
all the herbivorous species of birds, together with the auxiliary 
supply oi their eggs; and those numerous species both of river and 
01 sea fish, which contribute very largely to the support of the 
'"'•nan race, not solely by affording food, but by affording a lu- 
crative ^employment to ; the fisherman. I omit the consideration of 
the tunic the lobster, the prawn, the oyster, and a few other species; 
because the aggregate consumption of such kind of food is com- 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



139 



paratively small ; and those animals, as articles of food, may be 
considered rather as luxuries than necessaries. 

Of the animals which supply us with food, the flesh or muscular 
fibre is that part which is most acceptable to the palate : and it is 
worthy of consideration that the flesh of those animals, of whose 
living services we stand hourly in need, as the horse and the dog, 
are so unpalatable that we are not tempted to eat them unless in 
cases of dreadful necessity. Many individuals however, through 
poverty, are content, and some by peculiarity of taste are inclined, 
to feed on the lungs or liver, or other of the viscera of animals. 
And modern researches and experiments have taught us that even 
the bones may be rendered digestible, either by the effect of long 
boiling under a high degree of artificial pressure, as in the apparatus 
called Papin's Digester, or in consequence of the removal of their 
earthly basis by means of any convenient acid ; and we have also 
learned, from similar sources, that common saw-dust, by certain 
chemical processes, may be made nutritious: but we may fairly 
argue, from the provisional care of nature, that mankind will never 
be generally reduced to such circuitous means of obtaining their 
necessary food. In the mean time we may console ourselves with 
the reflection, that in the event of any temporary or local difficulty, 
we may find a supply of food where antecedently to the researches 
above-mentioned we should never have dreamed of looking for it. 
Vitruvius mentions, in speaking of the construction of garden walks, 
that the fragments of charcoal, which were a common substratum 
of such walks, had occasionally afforded a most important magazine 
of fuel in a protracted siege : and in such an emergency the bones 
of animals might continue a supply of food, after the flesh had been 
eaten. 



Sect. VI. 

Manufacture of Sal Ammoniac. 

Even in the present abundance of animal food the refuse is not 
w r asted ; and all that is thrown aside, as unpalatable or indiges- 
tible, is subsequently collected, for the purpose of obtaining a mate- 
rial, very extensively employed and of considerable value in the 
arts, known familiarly under the name of sal ammoniac. Perhaps 
in the whole circle of the arts there is scarcely any process more in- 
teresting, if all the attendant circumstances be considered, than 
the fabrication of this substance : and the interest principally arises 
from this peculiarity in the nature of the process, that, among the 
numerous products which are evolved in its different stages, there 
is scarcely one which is not sufficiently useful to prevent the necessity 
of its being thrown away. 



no 



ADAPTATION OF ANIMALS 



Any one, who is in the habit of walking much in the streets of 
London, will frequently see some half-clothed wretched individual 
stooping down and holding open an apron, into which he throws from 
time to°time pieces of broken bone and other offal, which he has 
disengaged from the interstices of the stones that form the carriage 
pavement. The unsightly load thus obtained is conveyed to the 
sal ammoniac manufactory; and when a sufficient mass of bones 
has been accumulated from this and other sources, they are thrown 
into a cauldron of water, and are boiled for the purpose of clear- 
ing them of the grease with which they are enveloped : which grease, 
subsequently collected from the surface of the water on which it 
floats, is employed in the composition of soap. 

The bones thus cleaned are thrown into large retorts, surrounded 
by burning fuel, and submitted to the process called destructive 
distillation ; whereby, in consequence of the application of a suffi- 
cient degree of heat, the matter of the bone is resolved into its con- 
stituent elements, from which new compounds are formed. Of 
these, some pass off in the state of vapour or gas, while the fixed 
principles remain in the retort. 

Among the more remarkable products which pass off are car- 
bonic acid gas, commonly known by the name of fixed air ; and 
various combinations of hydrogen and carbon, forming different 
kinds of inflammable air; together with water holding carbonate 
of ammonia (salt of hartshorn) in solution ; and a peculiar oil. 
Of these products, the fixed air and inflammable air are disregarded, 
and suffered to escape. The oil is employed to feed lamps placed 
in small chambers, the sides of which become incrusted with the 
smoke arising from the combustion : which smoke being collected, 
becomes an article of sale under the name of lampblack; a sub- 
stance of considerable importance as the basis of printing ink, &c. 

It would be tedious, and uninteresting to the general reader, 
to describe all the intermediate steps of the process: and it is 
sufficient for the present purpose to state that, towards the con- 
clusion of it, two new compounds are formed, namely muriate of 
ammonia and sulphate of soda : of which the sulphate of soda is 
separated by the process of crystallization, and is sold to the drug- 
gists under the common name of Glauber's salt ; and the muriate 
of ammonia, (sal ammoniac,) the great object of the whole manu- 
facture, is finally obtained in a separate state by the process called 
sublimation. 

The form of the bones, submitted to destructive distillation in 
tins process, is not altered; and the unvolatilized mass, remaining 
in the retorts, consists of the earthy and saline matter of these 
Doii. s, blackened by the carbon which is evolved from their ani- 
mal matter. Exposure to an open fire drives off this carbon, and 
leaves the bones still unaltered in form, but nearly blanched : and 
these bones, subsequently reduced to powder, and mixed with a 



TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN. 



141 



sufficient quantity of water to give them the requisite degree of 
consistence, are formed into vessels, which are employed in the 
process of refining gold and silver. 

It was stated that, during the destructive distillation of bone, the 
carbonic acid and inflammable gases are suffered to escape : but of 
these the latter might be employed in supplying light to gas 
burners ; and then, out of the numerous products of the compli- 
cated process which I have been describing, the carbonic acid 
would be the only substance not employed for some useful purpose. 

Sect VII. 

Animals as a Source of Clothing, fyc.for Man. 

The utility of many of those animals which supply us with food 
does not terminate in merely that adaptation of them to human 
wants. From the same animals we are supplied with clothing also ; 
(but this service, indeed, they render to us in common with various 
other animals which are unfit for food) ; and, according to the 
different states of civilization in which mankind exists, that clothing 
is more or less artificially prepared. Thus while the African or 
Australian savage scarcely protects his body from exposure by a 
partial covering of leaves, or the inner bark of trees ; and the 
Esquimaux envelopes his body in the undressed skin of the seal 
which he has recently killed, supplying also the separate coverings 
of his head and feet and hands from the same source ; the poorest 
peasant of any civilized part of Europe derives his clothing not 
only from one but many different species of animals ; to say nothing 
of those occasional parts of his dress which are obtained from the 
vegetable and mineral kingdom. The ox, the dog, the sheep, the 
beaver or the rabbit, and the silk-worm, in almost every instance 
contribute their direct contingent to the apparel of the humblest 
individual of Europe, who is not absolutely a mendicant: and, 
with reference to the dress and ornamental appendages of indivi- 
duals of more elevated rank, to the animals already mentioned may 
be added the deer, the goat, the camel, the elephant, the ermine, 
and numerous other animals which supply the various and rich 
furs of commerce ; the ostrich, and many other birds ; and even 
the tortoise, the oyster, and the puny architect of the more beautiful 
species of coral. 

Nor are the advantages which mankind derive from the animal 
kingdom, with reference to general commerce and the arts and eco- 
nomical purposes of life, of less importance than the foregoing. How 
many different substances, as leather, and parchment, and glue ; and 
what various instruments, either for common use, or ornament or 
amusement, are manufactured from skin and horn, and bone and 



142 



EXERCISE OF THE 



ivory! With respect to the last-mentioned of which substances 
indeed, it is a highly interesting fact/that the world has not been sup- 
plied with it solely from the two still existing species of elephant, but 
also, and in a very large proportion, from the extinct and fossil 
species. Under the name of licorne fossile, the tusks of the extinct 
species have for ages been an object of commerce in the Russian 
dominions : and M. Pallas describes the abundance of these fossil 
tusks to be such, that they are found in every direction throughout 
the greater part of north-eastern Russia. 

If we only consider the amount of the consumption of wax and 
honey, of what importance is not that little insect the bee : and the 
same observation may be made with reference to the silk-worm and 
the cochineal ! 

Lastly, for it is necessary to bring the present subject to a close, 
what immense advantages accrue to commerce and navigation from 
the traffic in even a very few species of fish, as the whale, the cod, 
the herring, and the pilchard ! so great indeed are those advantages, 
that the question of the right of fishery on a particular coast has 
sometimes been the occasion of involving the most powerful nations 
in expensive wars : for these fisheries, at the same time that they are 
a source of immense riches to individuals, constitute, as it were, a 
nursery for the hardiest race of sailors, and thus become of the 
highest importance in a national point of view. 



CHAPTER X. 

ADAPTATION OF THE EXTERNAL WORLD TO THE EXERCISE OF THE 
INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES OF MAN. 

Section I. 

On the Rise and Progress of Human Knowledge. 

In the preceding part of this treatise the physical character and 
condition of man were first considered; and, afterwards, the adap- 
tation of external nature to the supply of his bodily wants. It re- 
mains for us to consider the adaptation of the various objects of the 
material world to the exercise of his intellectual faculties. 

But, m contemplating the connexion which exists between the ex- 
ternal world and the exercise of the mind of man, who shall attempt 
to describe the nature and boundaries of that yet unmeasured plain 
01 knowledge, in which man is constantly either intellectually expa- 
tiating, or practically exerting himself? who, without wandering into 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



143 



the mazes of metaphysical speculation — always amusing in the pur- 
suit, but never, perhaps, satisfactory in the result — who shall deve- 
lope the obscure steps by which science first finds access to the 
mind 1 In reflecting indeed on the state of civilized society during 
its earlier periods, there is nothing more wonderful in the intellectual 
history of mankind, than the skilful management of many processes 
in the arts, the true nature of which was not understood till ages 
and ages afterwards. Thus, although zinc was scarcely known as 
a distinct metal till about a century since ; and, almost within the 
same period, one of its commonest ores, calamine, was held in so 
little estimation in Great Britain that it was frequently used merely 
as ballast for shipping, (Watson's Essays, vol. iv. p. 6.) ; yet that 
same ore was used before the time of Aristotle for the purpose of 
making brass, and to that purpose is principally applied at the pre- 
sent day. The process also of making wine was known in the 
earliest periods of history ; although the principles on which it is 
produced were not well understood till a few years since. 

Another remarkable fact in the history of human science, which, 
though frequently observed, has not yet been explained, is the occa- 
sional arrest of its progress at a point immediately bordering on dis- 
coveries which did not take place till many ages subsequently.* 
This may be affirmed, in a certain sense at least, with respect to 
glass : for this substance, though very early discovered, hardly came 
into general use for ordinary purposes till comparatively a very late 
period. But a more remarkable instance occurs with respect to the 
art of printing : and whoever looks at the stereotype stamps, as they 
may be called, which have been discovered at Herculaneum, and 
other places, will be disposed to allow that the embryo of the art of 
printing died, as it were, in the birth.f 

In order that the external world may be fitted to the just exercise 

* The substance of the following" note, though not directly illustrative of the 
subject now under consideration, is not irrelevant to it ; and is sufficiently curious 
in itself to justify its introduction to the notice of the reader. 

In Dr. Thomson's Annals of Philosophy for 1817', p. 149, is an account of a paper 
read at the Royal Society, relative to some experiments made on torpedoes at Ro- 
chelle, in which it is stated that, where torpedoes abound, boys are in the habit of 
playing the following trick to those who are not in the secret. They persuade the 
ignorant boy to pour water in a continued stream upon the torpedo ; and the con- 
sequence is, that an electrical shock is conveyed, along the stream, to the body of 
the boy. 

Plutarch notices the same fact in almost the same terms. " It is affirmed by 
those," he says, « who have often made the experiment, that, in pouring water on 
a live torpedo, the hand of the person who is pouring the water will be sensible of 
a shock, which has apparently been conveyed through the water to his hand." 

"Evtot Ss 'iTTopovs-t, Trupxv atuTM? \7n7r\tov Xct/ufidvovns, (iv iK7riv» £Z<rcL (Na'/ixs, the 
Torpedo,) x.'j.raMrx.iSavvvvns vSuiji ava>9«t/, a.lo-&dv&o-Qcti rod vrdQovc civaTpi^ovTa; i7r\ tm 

KllpAy Hill THV a<fhV U/U0KVVOVTOC, iff 'i'JlKi SlA TOV t/SaTOi TfiTTOfJ-'iV OU KsLl 7rj>07riV0V&0r0S. 

Plut. Moralia, Oxon. 4to, 1797, torn. iv. p. 643, 644. 

f A very interesting conjectural account of the origin and progress of the arts, 
and of social life, occurs in the last part of the fifth book of Lucretius. 



144 



EXERCISE OF THE 



of our intellectual faculties, it is evidently necessary that its phe- 
nomena should be presented to our senses with a certain degree of 
regularity. This is a condition so obvious to a mind capable of 
reflection, that we find it inculcated, almost in the same terms, by 
two writers of the most opposite views as to the causes of those phe- 
nomena. Thus Lucretius asserts, that the sun and moon, by the 
constant returns of their light and the regularity of their course, 
afford to mankind an assurance that day and night, and the various 
seasons of the year, will recur not only in a definite order, but also 
for definite periods of duration * And thus also, but in language 
and imagery more elevated, and a sublime acknowledgment of the 
cause, as well as a declaration of the fact, the author of the 19th 
Psalm affirms, that " the heavens declare the glory of God, and the 
firmament showeth his handywork. Day unto day uttereth speech, 
and night unto night showeth knowledge." 

But it is also necessary to the just exercise of our intellectual 
faculties, that the senses of men in general should be similarly af- 
fected, when acted on by the same causes: for otherwise there 
would be no stability in our knowledge, as derived from these its 
most fertile sources. And though, from a peculiarity in original 
constitution, or from the effect of disease, the sensations of particu- 
lar individuals may differ, not only in degree but in kind, from those 
of the world at large ; the error is of no moment, since it may at 
once be corrected by a reference to the common sense of mankind. 

If any one should too curiously object that there can be no direct 
proof of a similarity of impression, from the same object, on the 
senses of men in general ; it might be answered, that neither is 
there any direct proof to the contrary : while we have many ante- 
cedent reasons for believing that there really is such a similarity of 
impression. The structure for instance of the several organs, of 
taste, smell, hearing, and sight, is essentially the same in all indi- 
viduals ; and the functions of those organs may therefore be pre- 
sumed to be the same : and from the similarity of the natural ex- 
pression of disgust, which peculiar odours and flavours usually ex- 
cite in numerous individuals, it cannot be reasonably doubted that 
their respective senses are similarly affected by those agents. 

If, again, any one should further object that we can have no ab- 
solutely firm ground for a reliance on the senses themselves, it might 
fairly be answered, that although, from the time of Pyrrho to that 
of I Berkeley, there have been always speculative sceptics with re- 
spect to the testimony of the senses, there probably has never been 
a practical sceptic on that point. It is stated in the life of Pyrrho 
by Diogenes Lacrtius, that though that philosopher asserted the 
nonexistence of matter, and pretended therefore to universal in- 
difference, he was sometimes overcome by his feelings, and would 



♦ Lib. V. 971—979, and 1435—1438. 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



145 



then act as other men act on such occasions; and, when reminded of 
the inconsequence of his conduct with reference to his doctrine, he 
would excuse himself by asserting, that it is difficult entirely to put off 
human nature, (cig ^aXstfov srf] oXotf^spws hc/Svveu awtyw-rov) : and it must be 
confessed that, in this apology, he offered the best comment on the 
character of his doctrine. And most philosophically does Lucre- 
tius* argue, noticing the apparent modifications of form which bo- 
dies undergo, in consequence of being viewed at different distances, 
that, although no satisfactory reason can be given of the real cause 
of the illusion, it is preferable to assign a false reason, rather than, 
by a consequent want of reliance on our senses, to overturn those 
foundations of all belief, on which our safety and life depend. 

We have seen, in the course of the foregoing inquiry, how ex- 
tensively the various objects of the material world are applicable to 
the wants and conveniences of man in every stage of society; and 
we cannot reasonably doubt that they were created for that, as a 
main purpose, among others to which they are subservient. Such 
at least was the conclusion of one of the greatest philosophers of 
antiquity; though unaided by the direct light of revelation. "For 
what purpose," asks Cicero, " was the great fabric of the universe 
constructed 1 was it merely for the purpose of perpetuating the va- 
rious species of trees and herbs, which are not endued even with 
sensation ? — the supposition is absurd. Or was it for the exclusive 
use of the inferior animals 1 — it is not at all more probable that the 
Deity would have produced so magnificent a structure for the sake 
of beings, which, although endued with sensation, possess neither 
speech nor intelligence. For whom then was the world produced? 
—doubtless for those beings who are alone endued with reason." 
(" Sin quserat quispiam, cujusnam causa tantarum rerum molitio 
facta sit : arborumne et herbarum ? quae, quanquam sine sensu sunt, 
tamen a natura sustinentur ; at id quidem absurdem est? An bes- 
tiarum? nihilo probabilius, Deos mutarum et nihil intelligentium 
causa tantum laborasse. Quorum igitur causa quis dixerit effectum 
esse mundum ? Eorum scilicet animantium quae ratione utuntur."f) 
Whether the earliest steps in the discovery of the arts of life de- 
pend on the effect of divine inspiration, of which the subject of that 
inspiration is unconscious — to which supposition there does not ap- 
pear any reasonable objection — or whether they result from the im- 
pulse of unassisted reason ; it would be fruitless to inquire : but it is 
interesting to contemplate the similarity of principle which seems 
to regulate the discoveries of the useful properties of material sub- 
stances.J Man does not appear to possess that kind of instinct 

* Lib. IV. 502—512. 

f Cic. de Nat. Deor. lib. II. c. 53. 

* The following- passages, one from Vitruvius, the other from Cicero, are arpli- 
cable on the present occasion. " The Deity has provided an abundant supply in 
every part of the world for the necessary wants of man ; and has orduned that 

13 



140 



EXERCISE OF THE 



which leads him to the selection of a specific sort of material for 
his nourishment or clothing, or for the construction of his habitation; 
but, in proportion as he feels new wants, he meditates on the means 
of gratifying them ; and usually perceives, with a quick eye, those 
qualities in external bodies, which make them capable of being fitted 
to the end he has in view. This power of perception is peculiarly 
characteristic of the intellectal faculties of man : and although the 
inferior animals have, to a certain extent, the same power, with 
reference to their specific instincts, yet in them it is very limited. 
The nest of the same bird may be composed, in different years, of 
somewhat different materials, according to the latitude of her 
choice ; but, with the exception of such a modification, she never 
varies from or improves upon the original plan : the comparatively 
unsheltered hovel of the rock, for instance, is never improved into 
the comfortable cottage of the swallow. 

It is probably owing to the exercise of the above mentioned power 
of perception in the human mind, that the instruments and arts of 
uncivilized life, observable at all periods of history and in all parts 
of the world, have such a general resemblance; although, in the 
construction of the one, or the exercise of the other, there cannot 
have been any communication of knowledge. Compare, for in- 
stance, the stone arrow-heads and axes of the ancient Celtic nations, 
with the similar instruments of the inhabitants of those islands of the 
Pacific Ocean which were not discovered till the last century. The 
following fact, and accompanying remark, may be mentioned, in 
illustration of the present part of the subject. Captain Beechey, in 
describing a dead whale which had been wounded by an Esquimaux 
harpoon, having " a drag attached, made of an inflated seal skin, 

that supply shall be easily attainable : whereas those things which are to be con- 
sidered in the light of luxuries, as gold and precious stones, are rarely met with, 
and are procured with difficulty." ("Igitur divina mens, quae proprie necessaria 
essent gentibus, non constituit difficilia et cara ; uti sunt margaritae, caeteraque 
quae nec corpus nec natura desiderat ; sed sine quibus mortalium vita non potest esse 
tut a ettudit ad manum parata per omnem mundum." Vitruv. Prefat. ad lib. viii ) "In 
vain had nature created gold and silver, and copper and iron, unless she had at the 
same time instructed mankind how to discover the repositories of those metals. 
And again, in vain had the material been adapted to our wants, unless we un- 
aeistood the method of obtaining it in a separate and perfect state." (« Aurum et 
arg< n turn, *s, ferrum, frustra natura divina gennisset, nisi eadem docuisset quem- 
. a(l ™ rum ve f s u Perveniretui— materia delude quid juvaret, nisi con- 
t on. ejus fnlmcam haberemus ?» Cicero de Divinat. fib. i. c. 51.) The fol- 

' m,n : ni ' <C uT IS ; Uai au *ority to the preceding opinion: « Doth the 

When hi n ! - \ ° T V I d ° th he °P £n and break *e clids of his ground ? 

■ u r m 1 r f thei ' e0f ' d ° th 116 n0t CaSt abr0 ^ d the fitcbeS > a « d 

KTSSSft"^ F nCipal Wheat and the a PP0inted barley and the 
Ch i fcfi I f G ° d ? 0th mstl ' UCt him t0 discretion; and doth teach him." 
almost a thn Ti^.i S( J' when 1 Dr ' Thomson considers it as "remarkable that 

K**- those W^^W^ 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



147 



which had no doubt worried the animal to death," adds this perti- 
nent observation. " Thus, with knowledge just proportioned to their 
wants, do these untutored barbarians, with their slender boats and 
limited means, contrive to take the largest animal of the creation." 
Voyage to the Pacific, p. 270 * 

It is probable, then, that there is an instinctive tendency in man 
to meditate on the nature and properties of those material objects 
and phenomena which are frequently presented to his view ; and 
subsequently to derive from this meditation the means of applying 
those objects and phenomena to his wants, whether of a necessary 
or an artificial character. Thus astronomy was originally culti- 
vated with most success by those who lived in a climate in which 
an unclouded sky prevailed ; navigation, by those who lived on the 
borders of the ocean ; and the general arts of life, by those who in- 
habited regions characterised by the fertility of their soil, and the 
abundance and variety of their mineral productions. Of these posi- 
tions, ancient Egypt, Phenicia, and India are respectively instances: 
though it is not intended to affirm that an unclouded sky is alone 
sufficient to produce a tendency towards the cultivation, much less 
a national superiority in the science of astronomy ; nor a vicinity to 
the sea, an excellence in nautical skill ; nor, lastly, a fertile soil and 
abundance and variety of mineral riches, a correspondent skill in 
the general arts of life. In every instance it may be presumed that 
civilisation must have advanced sufficiently to have produced many 
artificial wants, before individuals feel that powerful stimulus which 
prompts them to take the full advantage of those resources which 
nature has placed within their reach. The miserable natives of 
New Holland, though inhabiting a country as extensive, and in parts 

* The same author observes, in a short sketch of Upper California, that the 
natives cultivate no land, but subsist entirely "by the chase and upon the sponta- 
neous produce of the earth ; acorns, of which there is a great abundance in the 
country, constituting their principal vegetable food. Of these acorns they procure 
a supply in the proper season ; and, after having baked them, they bruise them 
between two stones into a paste which will keep unto the following season. The 
paste, before it is dried, is subjected to several washings in a sieve ; which process, 
they say, deprives it of the bitter taste common to the acorn. We cannot but re- 
mark that the great resemblance this custom bears to the method adopted by the 
South Sea islanders to keep their bread-fruit : nor ought we to fail to notice the 
manner in which Providence points out to different tribes the same wise means of 
preserving their food, and providing against a season of scarcity." (p. 399.) A 
similar reflection will naturally occur to the reader with respect to their mode of 
decoying deer and ducks : their plan, in the latter instance, differing very little 
from our own ; in the former, being conducted on the principle of the stalking- 
horse, (p. 399, 400. See also De Bry, vol. i. pi. 25. Descript. of Florida.) 

On one occasion, in alluding to the structure of the bow among uncivilized na- 
tions, Captain Beechy forcibly reminds the classical reader of a line in the first book 
of the Iliad: Jaw Si Kkuyyn yhi^" 1 apyvptoto fiioh: for, after having said that the Califor- 
nians string their bows much as we do (p. 402,) he states that the Esquimaux 
leave the string in contact with about a foot of the wood at each end ; while the 
Californians muffle that part with fur, in order to prevent the report, which would 
betray them, when fighting in ambush, (p. 575.) 



148 



EXERCISE OF THE 



as fertile as Europe, have afforded no indications of an approach 
towards that degree of civilisation which would lead them to dis- 
cover and apply its resources. # . ; 

But, though it would be a vain and useless speculation to inquire 
in what way the arts and sciences actually arose, or how it has hap- 
pened that they were more or less successfully cultivated by different 
nations, it cannot be either uninteresting or uninstructive to compare 
the progress which natural science had made in Europe, at a period 
shortlyantecedent to the Christian era, with the state in which it now 
exists : and such a comparison is in strict accordance with the origi- 
nal intention of this treatise. The materials for this comparison, 
which will be attempted only on a plan the most general, have been 
principally derived from Lucretius, and from that work of Aristotle 
which is entitled, TLepi Zwwv 'IoVopfas. It should be remembered, how- 
ever, that there is a broad line of distinction between the mode in 
which natural science was cultivated by the ancients, and that which 
has been adopted by the moderns. The ancients, though on many 
occasions as accurate observers of the obvious phenomena of nature 
as the moderns, were too hasty in coming to conclusions as to the 
character and cause of those phenomena; and hence the crude 
opinions and theories with which their philosophy abounded. But, 
if we justly consider the precept of Thales, "Know thyself," as a 
precept of the highest wisdom for our moral conduct, we must, on 
equally strong grounds, consider it as the highest prerogative of 
reason, or our intellectual nature, to know the actual extent of its 
own powers : and it is one of the glories of the philosophy of the 
present day, that, instead of being ashamed of its own limitations, 
and consequently prone to hurry into unfounded assumptions for the 
purpose of hiding its ignorance, it explicitly, and at once, acknow- 
ledges the point which for the present must be considered as a bar- 
rier to further progress ; still however looking forward to the period 
when the increased accumulation of new facts shall enable it to re- 
move that barrier. 



Section II. 

Opinions of Lucretius on the Constitution of Matter in general ; and 
on the Nature of Light, Heat, Water, and Air. 

In attempting to explain the constitution of the universe, and the 
general phenomena of nature, Lucretius assumes that matter in its 
primary form consists of very small and impenetrable particles, 
which, from their supposed incapability of further division, are 
called atoms ; that, from the fortuitous concourse of these atoms, all 
natural bodies were originally produced ; and that into these they 
are again resolved by those common processes which we are con- 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



149 



stantly witnessing, as the death and consequent decomposition of 
vegetables and animals, and the wearing away of the most solid 
bodies by the effect and exposure to the air, or by the insensible 
attrition of other bodies : and, lastly, he maintains that these atoms 
existed from eternity, and are in their essence indestructible. 

He asserts as untenable, in fair reasoning, the opinion that there 
is no term to the divisibility of matter ; since, on that supposition, 
the smallest bodies would consist of an infinite number of parts: and 
he consequently concludes that those indivisible bodies or atoms 
must be perfectly solid.* He impugns, as opposed to common sense, 
the doctrine of Heraclitus that all things are formed from fire,f and 
also the doctrine of others, that all things are formed from fire or 
air, or water or earth ;J or from binary combinations of them, as of 
air and fire, or of earth and water: and, lastly, he rejects also the 
doctrine of Empedocles, that all natural substances are produced 
from the joint union of fire, earth, air, and water.§ And Lucretius, 
himself supposes that the original atoms of matter may, by a mere 
variation in the modes of combination, produce all the objects of 
nature, whether animate or inanimate ; illustrating his argument in- 
geniously by a reference to the fact, that an endless variety of words, 
of the most different meaning and sound, is produced by various 
combinations of the same letters.|| 

It is not necessary, on the present occasion, to comment on the 
obviously atheistical character of some of the opinions of Lucretius: 
but it may safely be affirmed that, although he strains the applica- 
tion of his general argument so as to support a belief in the eternity 
of matter, denying equally its creation and destructibility ; yet the 
basis of his argument, if confined, as it ought to bave been, to the 
existing constitution of the earth, rests on a legitimate deduction 
from the phenomena of nature : for, certainly, there is no reason for 
believing that a particle of matter has either been lost or added to the 
earth or to the atmosphere, since their creation. And, in reasoning 
from the mere phenomena, Lucretius justly asks, if everything which 
disappears, in consequence of age and apparent decay, is actually 
destroyed, whence is there a renewal of animal or vegetable life ? 
how do rivers continue to flow?^! concluding with one of those beau- 
tiful illustrations, in which his poem abounds. " It may be said per- 
haps, that the showers, which sink into the earth and are lost to our 
sight, apparently perish : but then, from their fertilizing effects on 
the soil, and their subsequent incorporation with the growing seed, 
the harvest rises, and the vine and fig-tree flourish. Hence, more- 
over, animal life in general derives its support ; the sportive lamb 
hence draws its nutriment from its full-fed mother, and wantons 
round the meads and woods ; and hence those woods themselves 



* Lucret. lib. I. passim. 

t Lib. I. 636—639, and 691^700. 

* Lib. I. 706—712. 

13* 



§ Lib. I. 713—717. 
II Lib. I. 817—829. 
1 Lib. I. 226-232. 



150 



EXERCISE OF THE 



yearly resounded with the melody of their native tenants. Nor does 
the effect stop here : for we ourselves ultimately derive our support 
from the same source ; and cities are eventually peopled from the 
nutriment produced by the very rain which we had fondly supposed 
to perish. But nothing really perishes ; nature producing new forms 
of matter, from the materials of those which have apparently been 
destroyed."* 

It would appear, from a very remarkable passage in Lucretius, 
that some of the philosophers of his day entertained an opinion, which 
he himself however opposes, that there exists a universal law of 
gravitation, by which all bodies tend towards the earth as the centre 
of the universe ; that, in consequence of this law, the bodies of those 
animals which inhabit the opposite, or, as it were, the inferior sur- 
face of the earth, are no more capable of falling into the sky which 
surrounds them, than the animals inhabiting our own, or the rela- 
tively upper surface of the earth, are capable of rising into the sky 
which is placed above them. And, correspondently with the spheri- 
cal form of the earth, which almost necessarily follows as a corol- 
lary from such an exposition of the law of gravitation, the same 
philosophers argued that, at the same moment when on the opposite 
surface it is day, with us it is night.f 

Although Lucretius, when speaking in general terms of the ten- 
dency of all heavy bodies to fall towards the earth, and of the ac- 
celeration of motion and increase of force which they acquire in 
falling, offers such an account of the facts as we might expect from 
his confused doctrine of atoms, and shows his ignorance of the real 
character of positive gravity ; yet of the nature of relative or specific 
gravity, that is, of the cause why equal bulks of different bodies are 
of different weights, he gives the true explanation, by asserting that 
the heaviest bodies contain most matter, and consequently have 
fewest pores.J That such pores exist not only in wool, and" bodies 
of a similar texture, but even in those which are hard and compact, 
is proved, he affirms, by the percolation of water through the roofs 
of caverns; and from the transmission of the food both of animals 
and plants into their extreme limbs and branches.^ 

Lucretius considers light as a very subtle kind of matter, which, 
from its tenuity, is capable of inconceivably swift motion; the rapi- 
dity ol which motion he instances in its nearly instantaneous diffu- 
sion i through the whole heaven.|| With respect to the connexion of 
light and colour, he not only affirms that the latter cannot exist 
without the former; but that the particular colour observable in 
different bodies is not inherent in those bodies, and that in every 
instance it is produced by the direction, or other circumstances, 
under which light impinges either on them, or on the eye of the be- 

? Lib I "lOjfc AQ6S I V1 - 334 -346.and lib. I. 359-370. 

• L 1U(K) - „ „ § Lib. I. 347—354. 

II Lib. IV. 184—190, and 200—202. 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



151 



holder: and he gives as examples the plumage of the neck of the 
pigeon, and of the tail of the peacock.* And thus, he adds, the coun- 
tenances of the audience, and the whole interior of a theatre, closed 
in with coloured curtains, are tinged with the colour of those cur- 
tains.! He instances the foregoing position by a reference to the 
colour of the sea ; which, when viewed in the mass, is blue or green; 
but, when converted into mere spray, is white. J And he argues 
that colour does not belong to the ultimate constituent parts of bodies, 
on this ground — that if coloured bodies be reduced to minute parti- 
cles, the colour vanishes.^ 

Occasionally he employs terms which, even at the present day, cor- 
rectly express the fact of the equality of the angle of incidence and of 
reflexion : and he graphically describes the effect of refraction in al- 
tering the line of direction of the rays of light.|| But, in alluding to 
the phenomenon of the rainbow, he briefly states some of the circum- 
stances under which it appears ; without attempting to account for 
the mode in which the effect is produced.^ 

Lucretius supposes heat to be a material substance, because it ex- 
cites a specific sensation in animal bodies :** and, notwithstanding the 
obvious alliance between heat and light, which is observable in many 
common phenomena and operations, he conjectures, what has been 
most unexpectedly ascertained by the experiments of the late Dr. Her- 
schel, that there are rays of heat emitted from the sun, which are dis- 
tinct from the rays of light emitted from the same source.ff 

In speaking of the natural sources of heat, he observes, that it is 
generally produced by rapid motion ; and gives as an instance of the 
heating and even the liquefaction of a leaden bullet, which has been 
projected through the air with great force and rapidity. JJ He also 
notices friction as a source of heat ; instancing the fire which is pro- 
duced by the mutual attrition of branches of trees.§§ In speaking of 
compression, as another source of heat, he not only gives the more 
£> bvious and probable illustration of lightning, expressed or forced out 
from a condensed cloud :|||| but, in mentioning a spring of w T ater ob- 
served to be periodically warmer in the night, and colder in the day, 
he almost anticipates the views of modern chemistry respecting the 
different capacities of bodies for heat ; when, in accounting for the 
fact, he supposes the heat to be forced by compression, occasioned by 
diminution of temperature, from the surrounding earth into the wa- 
ter.TlH His interpretation indeed of the phenomenon is not correct ; 
but this error does not interfere with the ingenuity of the illustration, 
or its coincidence with modern hypothesis : and it is remarkable that, 



* Lib. II. 794—808. 

t Lib. IV. 70—78. 

t Lib. II. 736—772. 

§ Lib. II. 825-832. 

II Lib. IV. 319—324, and 438—444. 

IT Lib. VI. 524—526. 



** Lib. I. 299—304. 

+t Lib. V. 609—612. 

it Lib. VI. 176, 177, and 305— 307. 

§§Lib. V. 1095—1099. 

till Lib. VI. 270—275. 

IT IT Lib, VI. 861—873. 



152 



EXERCISE OF THE 



even after the lapse of twenty centuries, the real nature of heat is still 
questionable. We now know that, in such instances as that just men- 
tioned, the apparent difference of temperature depends upon the rela- 
tive temperature of the surrounding air; water which has been re- 
cently drawn up from the well feeling cold in the heat of summer ; 
but warm, during a frost. The fact is, that, being really of a mean 
temperature throughout the year, it will be greatly beneath the tem- 
perature of the air of summer, and therefore will then appear cold ; 
and it will be on the other hand above the temperature of- the air of 
winter, and will therefore at that season appear warm * 

From various phenomena, as from the drying of linen, or from its 
becoming damp without a visible accession or exhalation of particles 
of moisture, Lucretius argues that water is capable of existing in the 
state of an invisible vapour.f He asserts also that its constant exha- 
lation from the sea is proved by the corrosion of walls built near the 
sea-shore, and from the salt 4aste perceptible in our mouths while 
walking near the sea ;J and that, although this exhalation takes place 
in a small quantity only, at any given moment and from a given sur- 
face, the aggregate quantity, which is the ultimate result, is very 
great ; and, lastly, that in consequence of this exhalation, the sea does 
not increase in quantity notwithstanding the constant influx of rivers, 
and the rain that falls into it.§ He notices moreover and accounts 
for the equality of the balance, between the quantity that falls into the 
sea from rain and rivers, and the quantity that is evaporated from the 
surface of it.|| 

In speaking of atmospherical air, Lucretius maintains that, although 
in its nature invisible, and to all common perception intangible, from 
various phenomena it may be reasonably inferred, that it is really a 
tangible, in other words a material, substance. " Thus," he says, 
" when we observe that the winds, which are evidently nothing more 
than currents of air, not only drive the clouds in various directions, 
but violently agitate the ocean : and even occasion the wreck of the 
largest ships, by dashing them against the rocks; or when, in the 
form of a hurricane, they snap asunder the stateliest oaks, and lay 
prostrate in their course the honours of the mountain forest ; we can- 
not doubt that in their mode of action, as well as in the destructive 
character of their effects, they resemble the inundation of a rapid 
river; like which, they sweep before them every obstacle, or carry 
up I he heaviest bodies into the atmosphere, in their invisible eddies, 
with no less ease than the eddies of a rapid stream ingulf whatever 

* Aristotle, in his history of animals, mentions as a fact, without however offering 
any explanation of it, that during- the night the water is warmer than the air ; for in 
stating thai crocodiles commonly remain on the land during- the day, but in the wa- 
ter during- the night, he adds as a reason, that during the night the water is warmer 
than the air, ("Atuvortpov yd? <=(tt/t»? aiBpus, Ed. Bekker n 37 ) 

I Lib. f- 306-311. § Lib . V .381-394. 

L,b - IV. 219-227. || Lib< vi. 607-630. 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



153 



comes within their vortex*." He also shows, by a still more refined 
argument, that the air must be a material substance, because it offers 
resistance to falling bodies ; proving this resistance by the difference 
in the velocity of falling bodies of different weights : for, were there 
no resistance in the air, he asserts, and the fact is experimentally 
shown in modern lectures, that unequal weights, meeting with no im- 
pediment or support, would fall with equal velocity^. 

Lucretius distinctly notices the physical office of the air as a recep- 
tacle, and medium of conveyance for soundj and odours,§ and the 
various exhalations continually arising from the surface of the earth||. 
But, though he is right in asserting that the skin of animals and the 
bark of trees are a protection against the action of the air, he is wrong 
in supposing them to be a protection against the mechanical action of 
that elemental The science of chemistry, which had not then arisen, 
has taught us that such external coverings are a protection against the 
chemical action of the air. 

. It appears probable, from the preceding statement, that in the age 
of Lucretius philosophers had formed some reasonable conjectures re- 
specting the nature of light and heat ; and that several of the physical 
phenomena of water and of atmospherical air had been accurately 
observed, and upon the whole correctly explained by them. And even 
in a subject of a much more subtle nature, the mutual attraction of 
the magnet and iron, the explanation of the phenomenon was attempt- 
ed with a degree of ingenuity quite equal to that, which has marked 
the reasonings of some of the philosophers of the last and present cen- 
tury, on subjects of a similarly abstruse nature. 

In proceeding to account for the attraction of iron by the mag- 
net, Lucretius first describes the well-known experiment of a short 
chain of iron rings, the several links of which are held together 
merely by the force of magnetism ; the attractive power of which 
is communicated continuously from the first to the last in the series. 
He then claims the particular attention of his reader to his proposed 
explanation of so difficult a subject, by reminding him that, in facts 
of this kind, many points must be laboriously investigated and 
established, before a rational solution can be given. Thence, assum- 
ing that from all bodies minute particles are constantly radiating, 
of which, those from some bodies are disposed to affect one sense ; 
from others, another sense; and that all bodies are porous to a 
greater or less extent, and are severally indued with their specific 
qualities, affecting or being affected by different bodies differently ; 
he argues that, from the magnet as from all other bodies, such 
minute and specific particles are constantly emanating ; that this 
emanation dissipates the air from the space intermediate to the 



* Lib. I. 272—295. 
f Lib. IT. 230—239. 

* Lib. IV. 561—563, and 572, 573. 



§ Lib. JV. 219—222, and 228—230. 
D Lib. V. 276, 277. 
IT Lib. IV. 930—934. 



154 EXERCISE OF THE 

magnet and iron; and that, a partial vacuum being thus formed 
the ring is immediately propelled, by the air on the other side of it, 
towards the magnet, to which it subsequently adheres by an in- 
visible bond of union; and so, in succession, all the other rings are 
impelled: the adhesion taking place by some process, as insensible 
as that which unites glue to wood; mortar to stone; or the colour- 
ing particles of the purple die, to wool.* . . _ 
The observations of Lucretius which relate to the mineral and 
vegetable kingdoms are too few, and of too general a nature, to 
justify even a cursory comparison of them with the present state of 
science in those departments : and though Pliny dedicates a consi- 
derable proportion of his Natural History both to minerals and 
vegetables, there is nothing sufficiently systematic in his method, or 
approximating to the present state of science, to be of any avail for 
that purpose. The same remark holds good even with respect to 
Theophrastns, not only in the case of minerals, but of vegetables 
also. The ancients had a glimpse indeed of the sexual system of 
Linnseus, with reference to the palms; but show no tendency to a 
generalization of the observation. 



Section III. 

Opinions of the Ancients on the Organization and Classification of 

Animals. 

It appears from what has been said in the preceding section, that 
in mineralogy and botany we scarcely find among the ancients the 
slightest indications of those comprehensive systems, in the con- 
struction of which the last and present centuries have been princi- 
pally instrumental. 

Not so in the animal kingdom. In this branch of science the 
true principles of classification seem to have been almost as clearly 
understood in the age of Aristotle, as at the present day : and, in 
order to enable the reader to judge of the truth of this assertion, I 
propose to offer a short and cursory analysis of that work of 
Aristotle which is entitled Tlsfi Zwwv 'IoVepia? ;-|- comparing it at the 
same time with similar modern works, and particularly with that of 
Cuvier entitled, " Le Regne Animal, distribue d'apres son Organiza- 
tion," which was published in Paris in the year 1817, in four octavo 
volumes.J 

* Lib. VI. 906—1088. 

f It will be convenient here to state, that the edition to which references will be 
made in the following pages is that of Bekker, Berlin, 1829, 8vo. 

A new edition of this work was published in 1829, but the preface of the first 
is retained without any important alteration, and indeed with scarcely any alteration 
at all. Nor are the alterations, or additions, which have been made in the body of 
the work, of s^ch a nature as to affect the present comparison. 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



155 



I shall not stop to inquire whether the work of Aristotle is to be 
considered as containing the result of his own observations only, or 
whether he has collected into one body all that had been observed 
by others as well as himself; which last supposition, however, is 
probably the true state of the case. But in order to illustrate the 
magnitude of such an undertaking, and the difficulties attendant on it, 
even in the present splendid era of philosophical discovery, I need 
only refer to the following acknowledgment of Cuvier, Aristotle's 
great rival in this department of natural science, contained in the 
Preface of the " Regne Animal." He there at once confesses, with 
reference to his own work, that it would have been utterly impos- 
sible for any insulated individual, however long his life, and however 
great his leisure, to complete a systematic classification of animals 
on the principle of conformity of structure (which, it should be ob- 
served, is Aristotle's leading principle as well as his own) ; that he 
should not even have been enabled to offer the present simple sketch, 
had not the advantages of his situation compensated for his want 
of time and talent. Surrounded as he was by so many accom- 
plished Naturalists ; deriving information from their w r orks at the 
moment of their publication; and having as free access to their 
collections as to his own ; a great part of his labour necessarily 
consisted, he affirms, in the application of so many and such rich 
materials to his present essay. 

He accordingly acknowledges his obligations to Geoffroy, Le- 
vaillant, Oppel and Blainville, Lacepede, and Lamarck, in the re- 
spective departments of quadrupeds, birds, reptiles, fish, and testace- 
ous animals; all w 7 hich classes of animals are described in the two 
first volumes of his work. And he particularly expresses his obli- 
gations to Latreille, who furnished him with the entire third volume 
of the " Regne Animal," containing the arrangement of crustaceous 
animals {lobsters, &c) ; the arachnida (spiders, &c.) and insects.* 
Of his fourth and last volume he speaks in such brief terms as the 
nature of its contents requires ; for, inasmuch as it only contains a 
compressed account of those animals whose history is very obscure, 
either from the minuteness of their size, or from our ignorance of 
their habits and modes of life, it is necessarily very short in itself, 
and concise in its details.f 

It is clearly immaterial, on the present occasion, whether the 
work of Aristotle, which we are about to examine, be entirely his 
own, or only a systematic exposition of the opinions and knowledge 
of others ; for, on either supposition, it is evidently a representa- 
tion, on the authority of which we may fairly rely, of the general 
amount of knowledge accessible to the contemporaries of Aristotle, 
in that department of natural science : and as, with even still 
greater confidence, we may rely on Cuvier's work, as a similar 



* Preface, p. ix. x. 



f Pref. p. xi. 



15G 



EXERCISE OF THE 



representation of the existing state of knowledge in the same de- 
partment, I may safely refer to it as a standard of comparison 
with reference to the knowledge and opinions of the moderns. 

In attempting to give an account of Aristotle's views, it is 
prudent to state that it has been collected from numerous and 
various notices distributed very irregularly throughout the body of 
his work ; so that it is scarcely possible to be confident of having 
given the correct reference in every instance. It is prudent to make 
this statement, lest any of my readers should be led, in consequence 
of an incorrect reference, to doubt the fidelity of the representa- 
tion here given, from the difficulty of meeting with the original 
passage. This difficulty is perhaps greater in the case of Aristotle, 
at least with respect to the work in question, than in the case of 
most other authors, in consequence of what may be called his 
Pindaric style of digression ; which is occasionally so abrupt as to 
be at first view ludicrous. Thus, in comparing the kidney of the 
turtle with that of the ox, he suddenly illustrates his subject by 
observing that the viscera of the bonassus also (an animal not very 
like a turtle) resemble those of the ox. ("E^ Ss xai 6 (36vcuf og tol hrog 
urfoLvra o/xo/a (3o'i. p. 45.) And, again, in the midst of a whole page 
descriptive of snakes, when speaking of their cloven tongue, he ab- 
ruptly says that the seal (an animal not more like a snake, than the 
bonassus the turtle) also has a cloven tongue. ("E^ -Ss xal % <pwjoj 
k^^svriv tt\v yXurrav. p. 48.) It may however be presumed that, in 
these, as in many other instances, not only of this but of many other 
of his works, the text has been vitiated or interpolated. Indeed 
some of the opinions expressed in the work are so opposed to the 
acknowledged physiological acuteness of its author, that they can- 
not be consistently admitted to have originated with him : and such, 
assuredly, is the solution offered in explanation of the physical pheno- 
menon to which allusion is made in the proverb, dsi Ai(36r\ cpspsi <n xa»v6» : 
respecting which he says " that, in consequence of the want of rain 
in Libya, animals of all kinds congregate wherever there is water; 
and that, being rendered tame by thirst, all those individuals which, 
though of different species, are nearly of the same size, and which 
go with young for nearly the same period, breed together and pro- 
duce new forms." 

(noXufAoppoVara^s (<ra £wa) ev <rr) Ai(3uji — <5ia ydp rr\v uvo^flpiav pi<fys<f£ui 
Ooxsi djav-avTct tfph =ra utfowia, xoli ra pi 6(x6<puXa, xal sxcpspsiv wv oi Xpo vo ' °* 
ry\g wrjosug oi avrot xa) ra psys&y pf) tfoXG die' <4XX^Xwv tfpoZ aXX^jXa Ss 
ofpauvsrai Sta rr\v <rou srorou XP-'' av ' P* 248.) 

With reference to animal life in general, Aristotle notices the 
gradual advances made by nature from the state of inanimate 
matter to that of living beings; whence there arises a difficulty 
m ascertaining the common boundary of the two divisions. And 
he then observes that, in the scale of material existence, plants im- 
mediately succeed to lifeless forms of matter; and that although 
among plants the degree of the living power is "various, some 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



157 



being indued with a greater portion of it than others ; yet, con- 
sidered collectively, plants represent as it were a middle term 
between animals and all other bodies ; appearing as indued with 
life, in comparison with all other forms of matter, but devoid of 
life in comparison with animals. The change from the vegetable 
to the animal nature is as gradual, as from inanimate to vegetable 
matter: for there are some marine productions, of which it is diffi- 
cult to affirm whether they are animal or vegetable; since they 
permanently adhere to the spot where they are found, and cannot 
be separated from it without perishing; and they manifest very 
obscure, if any, signs of sensation. Indeed the whole class of testa- 
ceous animals can scarcely be considered as superior to plants, 
when compared with those animals which are indued with the 
power of moving from place to place." 

(Ou-rw (5' ix twv «%j^u^wv s'ig ra £wa [israfialvsi xolto. fxixpov rj (putfig, Cotirs rr) 
(fvvs^sia Xctv^dvsiv to (xs^o'pfov ocutwv xai to (XeVov tfoTs'pwv sVti'v fxsra yap to 
twv k^xjyuv yevog to twv (puTWv tfpwVov saVw xai toutwv sVspov <7rpos sts-pov 
8iacpspsi tw (xaXXov SoxsTv [xsts'^sjv ^w^a, o'Xov 8s to ysvog tfpos' (xsv toXXcc. 
(f^ixara (pa'ivsrai <f^s5ov u&irsp sfx-^u^ov, crpos' 8e to twv £wwv a-^u^ov. f, 6s 
ftsra(3a(fig s% otuVwv sis' ra ^£ja tfwzyjig stfriv — svia yap twv sv rr] &a\a<r<r r (] 8ia- 
rfopri&sisv av <r\i TToVspov £wov «Vtjv r) (puTov nrpo&irecpvxs yap, xa\ ^api^o^svu 
<7roXXd 8ia(pQs'ips~ai twv tojoutwv— oXwg 8s <rav to ysvoq to twv oflVpaxods'p/xwv 
(pu-rolg sojxs ^pos 1 t« tfoAsuTixd twv £w'wv. xai 'Trsp; aitf&Yj&euig, ra fxev auVwv ou5s, 
gv rf^fjbalvsTaj. p. 212, 213.) 

Again, if we regard the substance of the lower species of marine 
bodies, though in some instances, as in sea-nettles, it approaches 
to the character of flesh ; in others, as in sponge, it closely re- 
sembles a vegetable matter. And, lastly, as different bodies appear 
to partake, in different degrees, of life itself; so do they differ 
with respect to the degrees of activity in the functions of life. 
Plants, for instance, seem to be incapable of effecting much be- 
yond their individual nutrition, and the continuation of their species : 
and the same observation holds with respect to the lowest species of 
animals. By the addition of sensibility in different degrees, the 
pleasure and activity of life are increased ; first in the gratification 
arising from mutual intercourse ; and further, in the natural affec- 
tion which the parent feels for its offspring, and in the care of 
providing food for it." 

(*H 8s tou tfwfjoaTos' svi'wv tfapxw&yjs' so*t; (pvrfig, oiov ra rs xaXoufXSva rr^vcc 
xai to twv «xaXv](pwv yivof 6 <5s (frfoyyoG tfavTsXws' soixs to^ cpvroTg. azi 6s xara 
jjuxpav diacpopav sVspa tfpo STspwv rj8r} (paivsrai fxaXXov ?ur)\) i'^ovra xai xivrjCiv 
xa) xara <rai tou /3i'ou 8s rfpa^siZ tov auVov s^si TpoVov. twv ts yap (pUTWv spyov 
ov8sv aXXo (paivSTai rf\r]v o<ov auYo tfoiTjcfai rfakiv sVspov, oVa ^ivs-raj 8ia tfTrt'pjxa- 
tos" ojxo/wc: 8s xai <rwv ^wwv sv;wv crapdt t?jv yivs&iv ov8sv stfriv aXXo \o.8s7v 
spyov — <Kpo<io'jtfr\<z <$' aitf^tfsws ^8r\, rfspi ts rr]v o^s»av 8ia rr)v t^ov^v Siaopspovtfw 
auVwv oi /3i'oj, xai tfSpi rovg rdxovg xai Tots' sxTpo(pa£ twv ts'xvwv. p. 213.) 

Some animals,-then, merely extend their species, after the manner 
of plants, at stated seasons; and take no care of the individuals 

14 



158 



EXERCISK OF THE 



produced by them. And even of those animals which provide 
nourishment for their offspring, the greater number exercise their 
care for a definite period only ; that is, till their young are capable 
of providing for themselves : after which, they forsake or have no 
further communication with them. Some indeed, apparently in- 
dued with a higher degree of intelligence, enter into a social com- 
munion, and establish a kind of polity with their offspring." 

(Tot fJtiv ouv uicXuZ, uxrrfsp (pura, xutol <nx£ wpoc£ airorsXsT rriv olxsiav ysvstfw 
ret Si xai rfspi Tag Tpoyag ixtovsTrai <ro3v rexvwv, oVocv 8' d^orsXiffj). p£Gjp»£ovra» 
xai #oivw7]iav ouc^juu'av sti tfoiouvreu* to. 8s (fvvsruTSpa xai xojvwvoCvra jxv^/xi^ Eti 
ttXs'ov xai tfoXmxwrspov ^pwvrai ToTg arfoybvoig. p. 213.) 

And he makes a distinction in another part of his treatise between 
such animals, and those which are simply gregarious ; the former 
being characterised by the disposition to contribute collectively to 
the completion of some one work ; as man, the bee, the ant, &c. 
(tfoXjr/xot 8' sotjv cJjv sv t\ xai xojvov ylvSTOLi tfcWwv to spyov oVsp ou tfcWct tfoisT 
ret dysXafa. stfri 8s toiovtov <xv0pwtfo£ ? jut-sX»-r<ra, tfip^f, /Jwp/X7]||. p. 4. 

With the exception of the opinion that inanimate matter gradu- 
ates into life, nothing advanced by Aristotle in the foregoing obser- 
vations, if considered in the light of a general statement, is contra- 
dicted or set aside by our present knowledge. For no opinion 
perhaps is more prevalent, among those who are capable of fairly 
investigating the characters of natural objects and phenomena, 
than that there are gradations of excellence in the various forms 
of matter ; although the limits of distinction are often obscure. 
Who, for instance, that has compared the respective structures 
and qualities of the bodies, can doubt that the most splendid 
mineral indicates, humanly speaking, an infinitely less effort of 
creative and superintending power than the most simple vegetable? 
In the mineral we find a perfect similarity, or rather sameness, of 
character, pervading all the integrant particles of the mass: the 
order of their union being the "result of a mere external force, 
which, having once brought them together, ceases to have any 
lurther effect. In the vegetable we find a most curiously arranged 
system of [internal tubes or pores, which attract and separate the 
elementary principles of the soil and of the atmosphere in which the 
plant is placed ; giving rise to structures the most wonderful, 
and, if we contemplate different individuals of the vegetable king- 
dom, more variegated than the mind could have imagined — the 
bark, the wood, the leaves, and lastly the flowers, fragrant with 
a thousand odours, and emulating the brightest colours of the 
rainbow. Or, again, if we compare the character of the vege- 
table, fixed to its native soil, without anv inherent power of moving 
itself, cither totally or partially ; insensible to the influence of those 
agents which beget a succession of new feelings and emotions in 
animals; how contracted in its sphere of relations must we con- 
sider the former body, when compared with the latter: and how 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



159 



incalculably a greater power of creation do the phenomena of 
animal organization indicate! Gorgeous as are the lilies of the 
field, so that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like 
one of these, yet what are they in the effect they produce on the 
human mind, compared with the lightning of the eagle's eye, or the 
fire-breathing nostril of the horse? Most assuredly, in our estimation 
of excellence, the intellectual and moral image will always bear the 
pre-eminence ; and, whether or not the physical conformation may 
eventually be found to correspond, philosophers have actually 
classed animals in such an order, that those which manifest the higher 
degree of intelligence, and of moral feeling, are comparatively higher 
in the scale. 

As instances of the equivocal character of those particular forms 
of organized matter to which Aristotle alludes, when speaking of the 
obscure boundary that separates animals from vegetables, corallines 
and substances of that kind may be adduced among animals ; and, 
among vegetables, those green, and in appearance gelatinous confervce 
which are found in abundance in stagnant ditches during the sum- 
mer. And these, and similar examples, seem to show that, after a 
lapse of more than twenty centuries, the difficulty of defining the 
boundary between animal and vegetable organization still exists ; a 
difficulty which is fully admitted by the principal physiologists of the 
present day.* 

In examining, however, more particularly the preceding opinions 
of Aristotle, there is one which does not accurately agree with the 
present state of our knowledge : there is not, namely, that continuity 
of gradation which he expresses by the term oW^a.-)- There is pro- 
bably no living philosopher who advocates the opinion that gradual 
advances may be traced from the state of inanimate matter to that 
of life : for even Lamarck, who entertains the opinion of a gradation 
in structure among animals to a very extraordinary extent, considers 
that the difference between organized and unorganized matter, in 
other words between living and lifeless matter, is extreme ; so that 
they cannot possibly be ranged in the same line. And he also be- 
lieves that, however remarkable may be the apparent affinity between 
plants and animals, they may always be distinguished.^ 

But a regular gradation of form cannot even be traced in one and 
the same kingdom of nature : for, with reference to animals, Cuvier 
disclaims any attempt to class them so as to form a single series de- 
scending gradually from the higher to the lower classes. Such an 

* See Macleay's Horx Entomologies, p. 191. 

t A modern parallel to this opinion may be found in the geological hypothesis 
that the simplest forms of animal life occur only in the older strata ; more and more 
complicated forms appearing in the more recent formations. The progress of geo- 
logy has shown that this is not really the case. See Prof. Sedgwick's Address to 
the Geol. Soc. p. 2. 

* Lamarck, Philosoph. Zoolog. torn. i. p. 377, 384 ; and 398, in note 1. 



1G0 



EXERCISE OF THE 



attempt he thinks absurd ; and is far from supposing that, even in a 
separate class, the last in order are the lowest in the degree of their 
organization ; and still further is he from supposing that the last of a 
higher class are more highly advanced than the first of the class im- 
mediately succeeding. He merely allows that a regularly graduated 
scale is occasionally observable to a certain extent ; and maintains 
that the universal application of such a principle is inadmissible on 
any philosophical grounds.* And Lamarck himself agrees with Cu- 
vier in this opinion. 

The only formal terms of classification employed by Aristotle are 
sioog and yhos, of the first of which he gives a remarkably precise de- 
finition. That definition is really, though not in literal order, as fol- 
lows : — " an animal species is an assemblage of individual animals, in 
which not only the whole form of any one resembles the whole form 
of any other, but each part in any one resembles the corresponding 
part in any other. Thus every horse not only resembles every other 
horse generally, but the eye or the hoof of every horse resembles 
the eye or hoof of every other horse. And the same statement is ap- 
plicable to man and other animals. They are therefore the same in 
the character of their individual parts." 

("E^si 8s twv £wwv e'via [xsv tfavra <ra /xo'pta ravra uKkr)\oig, svjot 8' erspa. 
Taura 8s <rd psv s'iSsi rcov fxop;ov stfTiv, o/ov avQpurfov fcig xai ocpQock^bg avQpu- 
tfou £<v< xai o(p$aXfj!,£j, xai tfagx/ <fag% xai oVtw o'gto'jv tov oturov 8s TpoVov xai iWou 
xai <ru)v dXXwv £wwv, oVa siSsi ravra Xs'yo/xsv savroTf o|xo»w£ yap titfrfep to 
oXov irpog to oXov, xai t£v fxopj'wv s^si sxaoVov tpog sxatfrov. p. 1.) 

In comparing the preceding definition of Aristotle with the cor- 
responding difinition of Cuvier, we find that there is no essential dif- 
ference. Cuvier says, " Every organized body has, exclusively of the 
common qualities of its tissue, a peculair or proper form ; not only 
generally and externally, but even in the detail of the structure of 
each of its parts.f And all the individuals belonging to one of these 
defined forms constitute what is called a species"^ 

Aristotle thus defines the term ysW. " A genus is an assemblage 
of individuals, in which any one bears, upon the whole, an obviously 
perceptible resemblance to any other. Thus birds and fish consti- 
tute two distinct genera ; each comprehending several species. But 
the corresponding parts, in the different species of the same genus, 
usually differ in colour, form, number, size, or proportion. In dif- 
ferent genera, indeed, the difference of corresponding parts occasion- 
ally proceeds still further; the only resemblance being that of ana- 
log)', as between a scale and a feather ; a scale being to a fish, what 
a leather is to a bird." 

* fldgne Animal, pvef. p. xx, xxi. 

i Chuque corps org&nis*, ontre les qualites communes de son tissu, a une forme 
propre, non<seulement en general et a l'exterieur. mais jusque dans le detail de la 
struct ii re de chacune de ses parties. Tom. i. p. 16. 

j Et tous Irs 6tres appartenans a I'une de ces formes constituent ce que l'on ap- 
pelle une e.spcce. Tom. i. p. 19. 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



161 



Td 8s raurd (Jtsv sVnv, Siacpspsi 8s xa<T utfspo^v xa/ sXXfi^iv, otfwv ro yevc$ 
sVr/ raurov. Xs'^w Ssysvog o/ov 6'pvjda xa/ fp^Mv rourwv ^dp sxctrspov s^si 5»a<po- 
pdv xard ro ^svoj, xa/ so*r»v s'/^?] ^Xs/w /^uwv xa/ o'gv^wv. Aiacpspsi 5s <f£s5ov 
rd tfXsHjya rwv /xop/wv sv auro/s tfapd rag ruv tfa^Tjfxdrwv s'vavrjwtfsis, o/ov )fpw- 
jxaros xa/ rf^?jfxaroj, rc3 rd /asv paXkov aurd rfSrfovQsvui rd 5s ^rrov, sr» 5s ^rX^si 
xa/ oXiyorrjn xa/ f&sys&si xa/ tffJUxpoVrjri xa/ 6'Xw£ uVspo;^ xa/ sXXsj-^sj. p. 1. 
'AXX' wS siVsrv rd irXsTrfrct xa/ s| wv jaspwv 6 tfds o^xo^ tfuvsVrTjxsv, ?) rau'rd stfnv 
rj 5ia(pspsi roTg evavr'ioig xa/ xa$' uVspop^v xa/ sXXsk|wv. — "Evia 5s rwv ^wwv ours 
s'/5s» rd fjiopja rau'rd s^sj ours xa0' uVspop^v xa/ s'XXsj4>»v, dXXc* xar' dvaXoy/av, 
o/ov srsVovdsv— •TTpog 1 tfrspov Xsrflg' o ^dp sv opvj^i tfrspov, rouro sv i^ui sCr 1 ' 
Xstffc. p. 2. 

But although Aristotle used the term yevog, in its primary sense, as 
applicable to an assemblage of different species having a general re- 
semblance to each other ; he extends it indefinitely, so that it is prac- 
ticably applicable to the modern and more comprehensive terms of 
tribe, family, order, or even class : for as we have just now seen, he 
distinctly applies it to the class of fish, and of birds. And it is re- 
markable that he sometimes uses the term 7s'vog- as synonymous with 
s'/5os, or even a still lower denomination ; implying, that is, merely 
an accidental variation in a species. 

The following are instances of an undefined use of the term ysvog. 
Having spoken of red-blooded and vertebrated animals, he adds, 
ra 5s Xojtfa yi\r\ rwv £wwv sari /xsv rsrrapa 5»7jp7]jxs'va slg ysvrj : (p. 104.) 
in which passage ysvog is first equivalent either to the species or to the 
genus ; and afterwards to the wder, or to the class, of modern zoolo- 
gists. In another passage he says, s/tfi 5s yh-n rwv fxsXXjrrwv tfXs'jw ; 
(p. 287.) where yivos is evidently used as siSog. 

Aristotle was quite aware of the necessary connexion between 
the blood, or a fluid analogous to it, and the life of an animal. " Every 
animal," he says, "possesses a vital fluid, the loss of which occasions 
its death *." (s^Si 5s xaj u7p6Vr,ra tfdv £wov, rjg tfrspio'xo' l asvov — <p$sipsrai. p. 7.) 
and as the colour of this fluid in the higher classes of animals is al- 
wavs red, ("eVr* 5s r-^v putfjv ro a/(xa — s^ov — ro ^pwjxa spu^pov. p. 75.) hence, 
for the purpose of distinctive description, he assumes the colour as 
an essential quality ; and calls those animals which have red blood 
i'va^aa, and those which have not red blood dvai,aa. And thus he 
established a fundamental natural division, answering to the red- 
blooded and white-blooded animals of modern zoology : and it is of 
great importance, with reference to his principle of classification, to 
bear in mind that he places the Hva»^a, or red-blooded animals, in the 
upper part of his scale. 

Aristotle was also aware that there is a natural connexion between 
the existence of red blood, and of a spine or back-bone, made up of 
several distinct portions called vertebras ; (tfdvra 5s ra £wa, oVa svaijud 
sVr»v 7 r)/si £ax ,v > p. 66, tf^xsirai 5' y fa-%ig sx tf(pov5uXwv. p. 65.) and he saw, 
consequently, the coincidence of these two conditions in the classi- 
fication of animals : and hence we find vertebrated animals occupy- 
ing the first division in his scale, as well as in the scale of modern 

14* 



162 



EXERCISE OF THE 



naturalists; though, in consequence of his desultory method of treat- 
ing the subject, it requires some care to ascertain the order of his ar- 
rangement. 

Aristotle begins his work with some observations on the characters 
of the different component parts of the bodies of animals (and these 
are subsequently repeated in a more detailed form,) which forcibly re- 
mind us of the tissues of modern anatomy :* " of the component parts 
of animals," he says, " some are of the same texture throughout: of 
which the most general are the blood, and the blood-vessels — the flesh 
— bone — skin — membranes — hair — fat, &c. 

(Tojv sv to/£ £woi£ fxop/wv toI /xs'v stfTiv a<f6vds<ra, otfa SiaipsTrai sis o^oio^spvj, 
p. 1. Twv 8 1 ofxojojxspwv xojvoVarov (xsv sVtj to a/fxa — xai to j^op/ov sv w irecpvxev 
syyhstfQcu {toZto 8s xaXsIrai (pXs\L,) — xa/ tfdtpg — oflVouv — 8sppa, ufAr,v — Tpi'x £ £ 
— rfiixs\y). p. 55. 

He then distributes the several classes of animals into those which 
have blood, and those which have not blood : and though in the first 
instance his distribution is very confused, yet, when adjusted by sub- 
sequent statements, the order of arrangement is as follows. Among 
those which have blood, are man, viviparous and oviparous quadru- 
peds, birds, fish, cetaceous animals, and serpents. 

(Ta /xsv sva/jaa — av#pwtfo'£ ts xa/ ra ^woTo'xa twv TSTpa«7ro'<$wv, IVi 8s xat t<x 
woToxa twv rsrparfoduv xa/ opvig xa; Q(^£ xa/ x^to£, xa/ — c(pi£. p. 42.) 

Among those which have not blood, are animals naturally divisi- 
ble into segments, as insects ; animals of a soft substance throughout, 
as cuttle-fish, &c. ; animals having comparatively a soft shell, as 
lobsters, &c. ; and those which have a hard shell, as oysters, &c.) 

( 'AXXo 8s yhog stfri to twv o'o"rpa>co(5sp(xwv, o xaXsIrai o'oVpsov aXXo to twv 
fj.aXaxoarpaxwv — o/ov xapa/3o» xai 1 ygv/j Tivd xapx/vwv xa/ atfTaxwv aXXo to tcjv 
fxaXaxi'wvj o/ov — (fytfj'ar sVspov to tguv svto'|xwv. TauTa 8s itavra /xsv sotjv avaijxa. 
p. 10. 

He proceeds then to say, that " after having considered the com- 
mon attributes and actual differences of animals, we must endeavour 
to find out the causes of these ; for only by a demonstration and 
comparison of the peculiarities of individuals can we hope to arrive 
at a natural method of classification." 

(iIpwTov Tot's virapxwtia-S 8iacpopxg xai tol tfufA/Ss/^xoVa tfatfi Xa/3wfxsv. Mstol 
os tovto Tag aklag to-Jtwv irsiparsov svpsTv. outw yap xaTa (putf/v sot/ rfoisrtfdai 
njv f/idoOov, itapxo'J&rig T^g /'crop/a? i% *6p< sxaaVov. p. 11.) 

"And, first, we must compare together the several component 
members of animals; for the chief differences among animals will 

» Anticipations of modern physiological opinions are occasionally observable in 
< -alen also. Tims the following- passage clearly contains the germ of Bichat's doc- 
trine of organic sensibility. « In vegetables there is a peculiar power of sensation, 
by which, though incapable of sight, or hearing, &c. thev are capable of distin- 
guish, ng between those particles of matter which will nourish them, and those that 
will not ; attracting the one, and rejecting the other." 

( E«r«g*v itvi yhzc AtaQna-tat h rots Qvrots—oirt yttp rw op9ra>v,ovri ra>v akovv- 

TtKOoV X. T. X. <X U <?'*yvao-tV, AK\A fXOVOV T«|T T?^W H fAH Tf>i<pilV fwafAtW TA fXiV yAp 
TpifttV SwifAiVX 7Tp H tUVTHV iKKOVCTA K. T. \. fAtT A&AWU TTpOC TO OIKilOV TJJ? TpiQOfXiVH 

oo<r/«<-, ta St f*n JuvuuiVATpi<puv ou xpccrnTcLi.— Gai.eni Op. Kuhn, vol. iv. p. 764.) 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



163 



be found in the presence or absence of particular members, and in 
their order or position ; or in their form, proportion, the analogy of 
their uses, or the peculiarities of their colour, &c." 

(Atj^tsov Ss Tfpwrov ra (xsprj rwv £wwv ej» £jv ffWflVTjxsv. Kara yap raOVa 
fAaXitfra xa< tfp^jra diacpspsi xai <rd oXa ? rj r£j ra /xsv I'^sjv rd $5 jxt} s^siv, ?j rri 
05O"sj xa/ rrj rdgsi, rj xai xard <rdg siprj^svag tfporspov &a<popa£, s'/#sj xai virspo^ji 
xai dvaXo^i'a xa/ <ruv <7fa07]|xdrwv svavrioViiri. p. 11.) 

In the same philosophical spirit, and in terms not essentially dif- 
ferent, Cuvier affirms that, in the attempt to establish a natural clas- 
sification, he examined one by one all the species that he could pro- 
cure ; and then classed together as a subordinate generic group all 
those which, resembling each other in the more important parts of 
their structure, differed only in size, or in colour, or in other points 
of little importance." (J'ai examine une a une toutes les especes 
que j'ai pu me procurer en nature ; j'ai rapproche celles qui ne dif- 
f^raient l'une de l'autre que par la taille, la couleur, ou le nombre 
de quelques parties peu importantes, et j'en ai fait ce que j'ai nomme 
un sous-genre. Pref. p. xii.) 

In the examination of the component members of animals in ge- 
neral, Aristotle selects man as a standard of comparison ; alleging 
as a reason, that, as merchants estimate the value of foreign coin by 
a comparison with that of their own country, because best known 
to them ; so in making a classification of animals we naturally em- 
ploy man as a standard, because we are more familiar with the hu- 
man form than with that of any other animal. 

(ilpurov ds <rd <rou dv^pwtfov (xspy) X^tfrs'ov uxfirsp yap rd vofxi'tfjxara tfpos' to 
avroTg sxatfro» yvwpifxwrarov (5oxjjxd^outftv ? outgj <5t} xa< sv roTg aKko'.g' 6 dv$poj- 
rfog tgjv ^ojojv yvwpijxwrarov Tjfjuv s| dvayx^g earn/, p. 11.) 

And, man being admitted as the standard of comparison, it neces- 
sarily follows that, as a- general rule, viviparous animals, birds, rep- 
tiles, and fish, would respectively come next in succession : and that 
order, as we have just seen, Aristotle actually observes. In one in- 
stance, indeed, he for a specific reason inverts the order of arrange- 
ment; and, commencing with those animals which least resemble 
man in their organization ; and proceeding with those which bear a 
nearer and nearer resemblance to him ; he terminates his descrip- 
tion with man, as having the most complicated structure of all 
animals. 

('Etfs/ ds &7]p7)rai rd ysvv\ tfpcjrovj rov aurov rpoVov xai vuv tfsipars'ov toisTtf Qai 
Tr\v dswpiav tfXr/v ro'rs jxsv <njv dp^v sVoioujxe^a dxorfovvrsg rfspi <rwv jxspwv dtf' 
dv^pw-7rov, vuv 8s rfspi rourou rsXsurarov Xsxrsov dia to tfXsjtfr'/jv s^sjv crpa^ia- 
rs/av. p. 112.) 

And he then enumerates the several classes in the following or- 
der ; " animals having a hard shell ; animals having a soft shell ; 
mollusca, or animals of a soft substance throughout ; insects ; fish ; 
birds ; oviparous and viviparous quadrupeds ; and man : by invert- 
ing which order we arrive at a correct view of his original arrange- 
ment." 



164 



EXERCISE OF THE 



(ITpwrov S* dpxrS'ov owro twv orfTpaxo5sp|Awv, fASTa 5s TaOVa #sp; twv fxaXaxorf- 
TPaxwVj xa/ Ta aXXa §s rovrov tcv TpcVov stpsf^* Irfn 5s' to, tS fxaXax;a xa; Ta 
lvrof/*a, xa; fASTa TauTa to tojv r^uwv ys'vos,' to tS £woto'xov xa; to woto'xov auTWv, 
sTra to tojv opvidwv. fxSTa Ss ravra. iespi tojv <jts£wv Xsxtsov, erfa ts £ojoTo'xa xa; 
orfa woroxa <5' sVt; tojv TSTpatfo^wv svia, xa/ avdpwtfo£ twv (Wo'tSwv f^o'vov. p. 112.) 

It is remarkable that, from the age of Aristotle to nearly that of 
Linnaeus, no systematic classification of animals was attempted ; 
none, at least, was generally adopted. Soon after the commence- 
ment of the last century Linnaeus directed his attention to the sub- 
ject; and distributed the whole animal kingdom into six classes, 
mammalia, birds, reptiles, fish, insects, and worms : in which distri- 
bution Lamarck observes that he improved on Aristotle, first, by 
using the more distinctive term mammalia, and placing the cetacea 
in that class ; and, next, by making a distinct class of reptiles, and 
arranging them between birds and fish. If this alteration, which 
has been subsequently adopted by all other zoologists, be made, Aris- 
totle's arrangement of vertebrated animals agrees with that of the 
present day. And in distributing all other animals into four classes, 
which Linnaeus distributes into two on\y, Aristotle must be consider- 
ed as having proceeded upon the more philosophical principle ; be- 
cause the species of these animals, taken collectively, are much more 
numerous, and much more diversified in their form and structure, 
than the species of vertebrated animals. Lamarck's objection to 
Aristotle's arrangement, on the ground of its commencing with ani- 
mals of a more complicated instead of those of a more simple struc- 
ture, is, for more than one reason, of little weight : for, in asserting 
that such an arrangement is contrary to the order of nature, he 
makes a peculiar hypothesis of his own the basis of that assertion ; 
and, with the exception of Lamarck himself, almost if not all modern 
naturalists, including Cuvier, adopt the same principle of arrange- 
ment as that of Aristotle. 

Lamarck objects with more justice to the terms Ivou/aa and avajfxa, 
as also to the supposed improvement of some modern naturalists by 
the substitution of the equivalent terms, red-blooded and white-blood- 
cd ; because in the second of those two divisions some species are 
included, as worms, &c. which have red blood. On this ground 
Lamarck proposed to divide all animals into those which have, and 
those which have not, vertebrae ; or into vertebral and invertebral 
animals.* And he extended the two invertebral classes of Lin- 
naeus to five, and subsequently to ten.-f 

With reference to the classification of Aristotle, as expressed in 
his first book, it has been occasionally observed by literary men, 
who were not familiar with the details of his history, that quadru- 
peds m general and reptiles are excluded. "The most comprehen- 
sive groups into which the greater number of animals may be 



# Philos. Zool. torn. i. p 116, &c. 



f Ibid. p. 121, 122. 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



165 



distributed,'' he says, " are these : one, of birds ; one, of fish ; one, 
of whales and other cetaceous animals ; all of which have blood. 
There is another group of the atfrpaxo^gpfxa ; another, of the (xaXaxoV- 
<rpaxa ; another, of the poXuxia ; and another, of the sVofxa ; all of 
which are without blood. Of those animals which do not come 
within the foregoing arrangement, there are no comprehensive 
groups ; for no individual type comprehends many species : and 
there is one type which is unique, affording only a single species, 
namely, man. Some types afford different species without a differ- 
ence of specific denomination : thus there are red-blooded quad- 
rupeds, of which some are " viviparous, and others oviparous." 

(rs'vT) ds [ksyuSra, tojv £wwv, slg a £r/ip7)<rai TaXXa £wa, <roc5' stf-TiVj sv f/iv opv»- 
0wv, sv <5' jp^uwv, aXXo §s xrjrovS. TaOVa (xsv ouv kovto, svaijxd §arw. aXXo ds 
ysvog sot; to twv o'oVpaxo^spfXwv — aXXo to tojv (xaXaxoo^paxGov — aXXo to twv 
/xaXaxj'wv— sVspov to tojv sVrofxwv. TauTa 6s komtol (Jls'v sotjv avajfxa — Tojv 5s 
Xo»tfo3v £wwv ouxs'ti tcx ys'v?] ^sydXa* ou yap crspts'^si tfoXXd s'/^t] sv sidog, dXXa 
to f^s'v stfTJV dtfXouv auVo oux sp£ov &a(popdv to sidog, oiov dv#pw7ro£, to, <5' s^si (xsv, 
dXX' avwvujuooc to, s'/^t). "ECtj yap to. TSTpowro&x, xa< (xt? tfTSpwTa tvaifjoa [xsv 
tfavTa, aXXd to. jxsv ^woToxa Ta (5' woToxa au-rojv. p. 10.) 

And though there are many species of viviparous quadrupeds, yet 
they have no collective denomination ; but each is distinguished, as 
in the case of the human species, by its proper name ; as the lion, 
deer, horse, &c. on which account we cannot describe them col- 
lectively, but must consider the individual nature and character of 
each." 

(Tou 5s yivovg tou twv TSTpatfo^wv £w'wv xou ^wotoxwv s'lSri fxs'v sCtj tfoXXa, 
avwvu/xa M m aXXd xad' sxaoVov auVwv ug sfasTv, u&rfsp oyfywrfog s'/p^Tai, Xs'wv, 
sXatpog'j JWoj — Aio xai X U P'$ Xafx/3dvovTa^ avdyxT] $swpslv sxdo"rou t^v (pCtfn 
auVwv. p. 10.) 

It is interesting to observe that even Cuvier occasionally ex- 
periences a similar difficulty in his classification; and expresses 
himself, with reference to the difficulty, in nearly the same terms 
as Aristotle. Thus, in introducing his third order of the mammalia, 
called carnivora, he says, " The forms of the different genera of 
this order are so various, that it is impossible to range them in 
the same series : they are therefore divided into several families.* 
And of one of these families, the marsupialia, to which the oppossum 
and kanguroo belong, he observes, that " the genera of that family 
might form a distinct order, so very peculiar is their structure.")* 
And on another occasion he adds, with respect to this same family, 
that " although the various species so closely resemble each other 
in many points as for a long time to have been classed in one genus 

* Les Carnassiers. — Leurs formes et les details de leur organisation varient beau- 
coup — au point qu'il est impossible de ranger leurs genres sur une meme ligne, et 
que Ton est oblige d'en former plusieurs families qui se lient diversement entre 
elles par des rapports multiplies, torn. i. p. 121. 

fLes Marsupiaux — pourraient presque former un ordre h part, tant ils offrent 
de singularites dans leur economic" torn. i. p. 169. 



166 



EXERCISE OP THE 



onlv; they yet differ so widely in their feet, and teeth, and organs 
of digestion, that, considered with reference to those parts, they 
migh° be distributed, not into one but several orders;*— and might 
constitute even a separate and parallel class of mammalia.f 

In addition to the natural groups, enumerated in the distribution 
above described, Aristotle refers to a few marine animals which 
principally belong to the zoophytes of Cuvier, without comprehend- 
ing them under a distinct name. Of that extensive class of animals, 
called at the present day polypes, which are the fabricators and 
inhabitants of every variety of coral, he says nothing : and of that 
still more extensive class, if the 'term class be not too confined, the 
animalia infusoria, he was almost necessarily ignorant ; most of the 
species being microscopic. 

It appears, from a few scattered notices, that Aristotle had a 
faint idea that the specific characters and dispositions of animals 
might be altered, from the effect of food and other circumstances: 
(twv £wwv Tcov rsrpaifoSuv croXX^v ai %wpai iroiov&i Siacpopdv ou /xovov rfpog rijv 
aXXrjv rov tfu^arog sur^xsplav dXXa xa; Kplg to itksovaxig o^svscf&ai xai ysvvav. 
p. 122. "Otfa [isv ouv jxaXaxas s-/si rag Tpr^a?, sv(3o<t'ia ^pwjasva tfxXfjporgpdS" 
i'tf^ei, ^Va $ s CxX^paj, ^aXaxurspag xai sXarrovg. Aiacpspoutfj Ss. xai xara touV 
t6Vou£ rovg Qspixorepovg xai ^v^porspovg. p. 68.) 'Evi'ots y\\sra\ twv jxovopfpowv 
sx fxsXavwv rs xai jxsXavTspwv Xsuxa — sx Ss twv Xsuxwv ^svwv oux ohitrai sig (xs- 
Xav juusra/SaXXov. p. 71.) 

And he mentions particularly one instance of this kind, though his 
reasoning on the occasion is not admissible in the present state 
of physiological knowledge. In observing that, "as the actions 
of animals are determined by their natural affections and physical 
powers, so their moral habits, and even some of their physical 
characters, are capable of being altered by their actions;" he" says, 
that "the common hen, if she have fought with and vanquished 
the cock, will begin to crow, and to imitate the cock in various 
ways ; and her comb will increase, and her plumage alter to such 
a degree as to make it difficult to determine whether she be 
really a hen : even spurs, though small, will sometimes grow on 
her legs. 

C'ttoVsp Ss rag tfpagsi? xaTa ra rtadr) (fvpfiami «ois~(f6ai tfatft roTg %uotg, outcj 
tfaXiv xai ra ^STa^aXXoutfj xaTa rag rfpagsis, tfoXXax^ Ss xai twv fxopiwv 
svia, o/ov sVj nov opvMwv (fv^aivsi. Ai' rs yap aksxropiSsg oVav vix^tfwtfi rovg 
appeal, xoxx'j^ovdi rs ^ov^smi rovg appsvaj xa< tysusiv gflfi^sipoutfi, xai' to rs 
xaXXaiov sgai'psrai aureus xai to oupotfuyiov, wVts ^ £afe av sViyvwvai on 6%- 
Xsicu gitfiv Iviaig Ss xai flrXSjxrpa nva juuxpa sVavstfTT]. p. 302.) 

The fact is nearly as Aristotle states it ; and, to a certain ex- 

* Malgr(3 une resscmblance generate de leurs especes entre elles, tellement frap- 
pan e, que 1 on n en a fait long-temps qu'un seul genre, elles different si fort par les 
' s ' pal ' lcs O^nes de la digestion et par les pieds, que si l'on s'en tenait rigou- 
reusement a ccs caracteres, il faudrait les repartir entre divers ordres. p. 170. 

TUn t irait, en un mot, que les tnarsupiaux forment une classe d;stincte, parallel 
a cclle des quadrupedes ordinaires. p. 171. 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



167 



tent, similar facts are observable in the human species as well as 
in other animals; namely, that the peculiar characters of the female 
are occasionally obscured, with respect both to the physical form 
and the moral habits. But, in reasoning on the phenomena, Aristotle 
mistakes the effect for the cause. The circumstance of having 
fought with the cock is not the determining cause of the change 
in the external form of the hen : but the alteration itself in the ex- 
ternal form is dependent on, or at least coincident with an imper- 
fect developement, or a subsequent alteration, of the internal struc- 
ture ; which imperfect developement or subsequent alteration de- 
termines that degree of masculine courage which prompts the hen 
to fight, and to imitate the male in other actions. 

And so it sometimes happens that, in females of the human species, 
the feminine form is either never originally developed, or, by age or 
other causes, becomes so much altered as to lose its usual cha- 
racters ; (yvvYj Ss rag sV> x <roj ysvsleo ou cpjsi <r£»X a '' svlaig yiyvovrai oX'iyaj, 
orav <ra xara^fyia (try. p. 70.) and, correspondency with these exterior 
traces of virility, there is often in such cases a masculine tempera- 
ment of the mind, which marks the character of the virago. And, 
on the other hand, from analogous causes analogous changes are 
found to take place in the male of our own species, or of any 
species nearly resembling our own : for, in such instances, the tone 
of the voice and the general form of the body acquire a femi- 
nine character ; and that firmness and resolution, which belong 
naturally to the male, subside to a greater or less degree into a 
feminine gentleness. 

Aristotle, then, had no philosophical notion of the laws which re- 
gulate the occasional variation in the specific form of animals ; 
much less of the limits of that variation : for the accurate develope- 
ment of which, the scientific world, and more than the scientific 
world, are deeply indebted to the skilful researches and correct 
reasonings of Cuvier ; whose fame will rest securely on this natural 
and imperishable basis, when his own and all other artificial sys- 
tems of classification, for artificial we can see them to be even in 
the present state of our knowledge, will probably have been over- 
turned by the force of those new views of nature, which must 
necessarily result from the contemplation of the numerous and 
varied phenomena which are rapidly accumulating in this depart- 
ment of knowledge. The field, indeed, in which Cuvier has laboured, 
with such advantage to science as well as honour to himself, is 
the investigation of the conditions which accompany the develope- 
ment of individual and specific form : and the result of his labours 
has afforded a splendid instance of the wonderful effect which the 
powers of the human mind are capable of producing, in a subject 
apparently of the least intrinsic interest and of the most unpromising 
aspect. The explanation of his views which I shall now attempt 
to offer, while it may tend to make known the particular merits of 



168 



EXERCISE OF THE 



this philosopher to a class of readers, who at present are acquainted 
with little more of him than his great name, will certainly accord 
with the general object of this treatise. 

In the preliminary discourse of his work entitled " Ossemens 
Fossiles," he states that the great principle in the study of compa- 
rative anatomy is this — that in every animal the several parts have 
such a mutual relation, both in form and function, that if any part 
were to undergo an alteration, in even a slight degree, it would be 
rendered incompatible with the rest ; so that if any part were to be 
changed, all the other parts must undergo a corresponding change : 
and thus any part, taken separately, is an index of the character of 
all the rest. This law of the co-relation of parts is indeed so de- 
fined, that even a portion of a bone may often serve to verify the 
species of the animal to which it belonged, (p. xlv.) 

We know how successfully Cuvier has applied the foregoing 
principle in establishing the true character of fossil species, of which 
the imperfect remains, or fragments of remains, are both few and of 
rare occurrence. The permanency however of specific character 
does not hold in every part of the organisation ; and hence there is 
an occasional impediment to the application of the principle : but the 
variation never proceeds beyond certain limits ; and therefore no 
more interferes, eventually, with the uniformity of the specific cha- 
racter of animals, than the periodical oscillations of the celestial 
bodies counteract the general regularity of their motions. 

We are now therefore to consider the nature of the disturbing 
cause, if I may borrow that expression for a moment, which occa- 
sionally interferes with the uniformity of specific character. And, 
with respect to specific forms, it may be remarked, that, although it 
is to a certain extent true that all organised bodies have the power 
of producing beings resembling themselves, yet circumstances of 
temperature, and of quantity or quality of food, and other causes, 
have usually some influence in the developement of the body of each 
individual ; thereby producing some corresponding variation in the 
form : and, consequently, the resemblance between the parent and 
offspring is never perfect. But— and this is a fact of the highest 
importance— there is no ground for believing that such variations 
proceed beyond certain limits; no ground therefore for believing 
that any of the above-mentioned circumstances could have produced 
all the differences perceptible in organised bodies ; could have ad- 
vanced for instance, by a gradual alteration of structure, a lower to 
a higher species. Experience, on the contrary, founded on an ex- 
amination of the records of remote antiquitv, seems to show that the 
limits of variation were ever the same that they are now. It appears 
for instance from the mummies of Egypt* that the general form, 
and size, and proportions were the same three thousand years since, 
that they are at present; as well in various other animals as in 



* Vid. Cuvier, Oss. Foss. i. Disc. Prelim, p. 75, 80. 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



169 



man ; and in all physiological probability therefore were the same 
three thousand years before that period : so that we cannot refuse 
to admit, that certain forms have, without exceeding the limits above 
described, been perpetuated from the creation. 

From various circumstances, however, as has been already stated, 
the offspring never exactly resembles the parent ; and by the exten- 
sion of those causes which occasion a difference of character, the 
variation from the common parent may possibly become so great, 
and so permanent in individuals of the same species, as to exceed 
in some respects the difference observable in individuals of different 
species. Such appears to be the fact, when, in the dog species, we 
compare the grayhound with the turnspit; or the Newfoundland 
dog with the Blenheim spaniel : and yet, even in such instances, 
which perhaps may be considered as comprising the extreme limits 
of variation, the specific character is never so far obscured, but that 
a child who had been accustomed to see a variety of dogs, and also 
of other animals, would recognise the character of the dog in each 
individual of that species. 

It is true, indeed, that it would be difficult not only for a child, but 
even for the most experienced observer, to define those characters by 
which the specific resemblance is recognised upon a transient view of 
the animal. Yet, although not obvious on a superficial examination, 
nature has not left this point undefinable : for, in almost every in- 
stance, the form and number of the bones are so accurately pre- 
served, that, however the colour, or the size and the general form 
of the body may be altered, we have satisfactory criteria of the 
species in the points just mentioned. But, of all the constituent parts 
of the body, this observation holds most eminently with respect to 
the teeth : and in the case of quadrupeds, which principally consti- 
tute the highest class of the animal kingdom, and in which class 
alone any considerable degree of variation is likely to be observed, 
we have almost always a ready mode of judging of the identity of 
specific character by an examination of the teeth ; for they in almost 
every instance have teeth, which are entirely wanting throughout 
the whole class of birds, and often in reptiles and in fish. 

In investigating the remote causes of specific variation, we find 
that domestication is the most general and extensive ; and that the 
effects are produced principally by the joint operation of the follow- 
ing means, namely, diet, general regimen, and the due selection of 
individuals for the purpose of breeding.* ' 

* Burckhardt observes, in his notes on the Bedouins, p. Ill, and 139, that in 
barren parts of the desert of Arabia, or in seasons of scarcity, camels and sheep do 
not multiply so extensively as in fertile plains and seasons. A similar observation 
would probably hold good with respect to the ratio of increase among" theTchutzki 
and other tribes of north-eastern Russia, and the inhabitants of New Holland or any 
other part of the world where the supply of food is scanty. 

See, on this subject, a letter, published by Sir John Sebright in 1809, on the art 
of improving the breeds of domestic animals. 

15 



170 



EXERCISE OF THE 



While animals exist in a state of nature, it does not appear that 
the circumstances in which they are placed give rise to much varia- 
tion, even in their external and fugitive characters. A uniformity 
of size and colour is usually observable in the several individuals of 
the same species ; as in the instances of the wild cat and rabbit. Nor 
is the character liable to be changed by intercourse among indivi- 
duals of different species. Although, for instance, the hare and rabbit 
are so nearly allied in form and size and colour, we never meet with 
a hybrid or mule of those species. 

In domesticated species a variation first in colour, and then in 
size, usually takes place, to an extent proportional to the degree of 
domestication. Cats, which are less subjugated to man than horses 
or dogs, vary little more than in colour ; scarcely at all in size. 
And in horses, on the same principle, there is a less degree of varia- 
tion than in dogs. In the dog, which is of all species the most do- 
mesticated, the variation extends to the production of an additional 
toe, and corresponding metatarsal bone in the hind foot* And in 
the human species, in the individuals of which, from their varied 
intercourse and modes of living, the limits of variation may ante- 
cedently be expected to have the widest range, there are families 
having six fingers. 

In concluding this part of the subject, I would observe that the 
principle, which we have just now been examining, is of very great 
importance as to the basis of a physiological argument with refer- 
ence to the identity of the human species throughout the world. For, 
inasmuch as all the variations in colour, form, and size, of the dif- 
ferent nations of mankind, come within the acknowledged limits of 
specific variation in the animal kingdom, we have hence satisfactory 
physiological proof that all the varieties of the human race may have 
proceeded from one common parent. Of the truth of the general 
position indeed, of which the human species is a particular instance, 
the work of Aristotle now under consideration is in itself a strong 
argument: for, notwithstanding the lapse of ages which has taken 
place since it was written, the description of many species is so accu- 
rate, as to leave no doubt of the identity of those described by Aristotle 
with those to which the description is applicable at the present day.f 

* Ann. du Mus. torn, xviii. p. 342. pi. 19. 

f It can hardly escape observation, or fail to excite surprise, that in the work 
now under consideration, Aristotle usually contents himself with stating facts : he 
very rarely reasons on their final causes ; thus omitting what Cuvier calls one of the 
most beautiful and useful points in natural history. The following are, I believe, 
the only instances in which he deviates from mere description. He observes, when 
speaking of fish, that a great proportion of the spawn of those animals is destroyed 
in various ways ; and that if this were not the case the species would become too 
numerous. 

(Ta fAiv 7ro\\a Id ol %ev«? uvaKaTrrovTt, <r« tf c teoMwrctt iv ^ vyft' i* av 8*TS- 
xow uc rove tottov; u; ov S Urulouri, tclvtcl ct»£it*i- u y*o tt^tcc iwFtro, v*uir*»* i 
oic olv to yivoi; uy tx.*o-ra>v. p. 169.) 

On another occasion he observes, that though the spring is the general season for 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



171 



Section IV. 

On those Animal Forms called Monsters, or Lusus Natures. 

The subject of the present section is naturally connected with that 
of the latter part of the preceding : and, although the occasion neither 
requires nor would justify even a brief examination of the laws which 
regulate the formation of monsters, or lusus natures, as they are often 
called, especially as they have been lately illustrated by that ardent 
French physiologist GeofFroy St. Hilaire ; it will not be perhaps con- 
sidered impertinent to make a few observations on those remarkable 
productions, considered with respect to one of the probable final causes 
of their existence. 

The term lusus naturce is applied to those natural productions, 
which vary in any remarkable degree, with respect to form, colour, 
structure, size, &c. from the general character of the individuals of 
the same species. The term literally taken, implies a sportive effort 
of the creative power of nature ; and for the purpose of general 
description there is no objection to this term, being, as it now is, 
familiarized by long continued use. But as we have no ground for 
supposing that nature, or, to use the more proper expression, that 
the providence of the Creator ever acts without some wise and bene- 
ficial purpose, we must consider the term in a philosophical point of 
view, as expressing an effect, of the natural cause of which we are 
ignorant. 

What, then, is the real character of those unusual productions 
which are denominated lusus naturce, ox monsters; or, in other words, 
for what end has Providence ordained that such productions should 
be formed and subjected to our observation ? And here, as has been 
observed in another part of this treatise, it will be found, upon even 
a cursory examination, that in a lusus naturce the character of the 
species, however obscured, is never lost. There is no ground, in 
short, for supposing that nature has ever produced such an individual 
as a chimera or centaur. And Lucretius's scepticism in this point 
is justified on truly philosophical principles ; on the difference namely 
of the physical constitution of the horse and of man: the horse at 
the end of his third year being full-grown, while man is yet almost 
an infant ; and a horse being decrepit in his twenty-fifth or thirtieth 
year, when man is in his full vigour.* 

propagation, yet occasionally the rule is set aside ; where, for instance, the preser- 
vation of the offspring- is the result. 

(O^UST/X^TatTa fAiV OUV C6C iVl TO 7TAV WTTitV TrpQC TilV 0%il*V TUV tCipiVHV Zp*.V i<TTlV CU 

f*nv Tit 7r*vra yn 7rouir'J.t tov tturov xatpov t»? o^flza?, ctKXct ?rpoc <t»v ix.rpo<*»tt tcdv TiKveev 
sv rot; KU.Qn«,ou<rt Kztpoic p. 181.) V 

* Sed neque Centauri fuerunt, rjeque tempore in ullo 

Esse queat duplici natura, etcorpore bino 

Ex alienigenis membris compacta potestas — 

Principio, circum tribus actis impiger annis 

Floret equus, puer haudquaquam/&c. Lib. V. 876—889. 



172 



INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. 



In pursuing this investigation, it would be obvious to ask, what are 
the limits which separate a lusus naturce from the ordinary individuals 
of the same species ? and we shall soon find that these limits are, in 
the majority of instances, undefinable. 

If, indeed, in comparing the several organs, agreement with re- 
spect to number be the criterion, the limits are for the most part 
fixed. Thus the human hand so very generally consists of five fingers, 
that an instance of an individual having more or less than five fin- 
gers would be justly esteemed an instance of a lusus natures. But 
even number is not always an acknowledged criterion ; for, with 
respect to the teeth, though thirty -two is the usual number in the hu- 
man subject, yet the instances of persons having only twenty-eight 
are so frequent, that we can scarcely class them as deviations from 
the common law. 

But if size, or colour, or form be made the criterion, we evidently 
cannot then fix the limits; for in all these points there is an endless 
variety in individuals of the same species : so that it might perhaps be 
truly asserted, that out of the countless myriads of human beings that 
inhabit the earth, nay even out of all that have existed since the crea- 
tion, no two individuals would be found to resemble each other ex- 
actly, in even any one of those points. And in this wonderful diver- 
sity the infinite power of the Deity is distinctly manifested : for, in 
the exercise of human skill, the most accomplished artist, as soon as 
he ceases to copy an actual individual, falls into that general simi- 
larity of outline by which we are enabled to ascertain his style upon 
the first view. 

If, in the pursuit of our inquiry, we appeal to the distribution of 
the internal organs of the body, we shall find, that though with re- 
spect to many the position is determinable with considerable preci- 
sion, yet with respect to others, the smaller veins and arteries, for 
instance, the variation is endless. But — and this most highly deserves 
our attention — if we consider the uses of the parts with reference to 
the precision of their position, we shall find, that the position of those 
is most constant, the uses of which are most important ; while the 
distribution of those parts, the position of which may differ to a con- 
siderable extent without inconvenience to the individual, is found to 
be continually varying. 

Now as this law of deviation from the usual structure does not 
seem at all to depend on the construction of the parts themselves ; and 
as the result is necessarily connected with the well-being, and even 
the life, possibly, of the individual ; we cannot consider this result as 
the effect of chance, or want of design : for, if chance could be admis- 
sible as the cause, why should one class of phenomena be so much 
more frequent than the other? And with equal or still greater force 
we may apply the argument to the existence of those productions 
emphatically called monsters. Probably then, or rather assuredly, 
these anomalous productions may, in addition to other ends, be con- 



CONCLUSION. 173 

sidered as proofs of a particular or constantly superintending Provi- 
dence ; and, like the storms which occasionally ravage the surface 
of the earth, may awfully recall to our minds the power of the Deity, 
while they at the same time convince us, by the rarity of their occur- 
rence, of the merciful beneficence of his nature. 



CHAPTER XI. 

CONCLUSION. 

It has been the immediate object of the preceding treatise to 
demonstrate the adaptation of the external world to the physical 
condition of man : and, either in considering him merely as an in- 
dividual, or as a component member of any stage of society, it may 
be freely admitted that every step in the investigation has tended to 
confirm this general conclusion, that — whether from chance, (if any 
philosophical mind acknowledge the existence of such an agent 
as chance,) or from deliberate design — a mutual harmony does 
really exist between the corporeal powers and intellectual faculties 
of man, and the properties of the various forms of matter which 
surround him; the material constituents of all nature being as 
evidently adapted to the supply of the wants of his body, as the 
contemplation of their causes and relations to the exercise of his 
mind. 

We have seen that from the surrounding atmosphere he is con- 
stantly supplied with that respirable part of the air, which alone can 
support the breath of life ; and which is demanded for that purpose 
during almost every moment of his existence. We have seen that 
from the same source are derived those universal and important 
agents, water and heat and light, which are equally though not so 
immediately necessary, as air, to the wants of man. We have seen 
again, that the mineral kingdom, though it does not directly contri- 
bute to the support of life, yet in the form of natural soils sustains the 
growth of every kind of vegetable ; and that on the nutriment derived 
from this source all animal life essentially depends : we have seen 
that the same source also supplies those various metallic and earthy 
bodies, the uses of which are most extensive and important in pro- 
moting many of the arts of civilized society. And, lastly, that the 
advantages derivable from the vegetable and animal kingdoms are, 
eventually, neither of less extent and importance, nor their adapta- 
tion to the physical condition of man less obvious, than those of the 
mineral and atmospherical. 

It would have been easy to demonstrate that an equally obvious 

15* 



174 



CONCLUSION. 



but infinitely more important harmony exists between the external 
world, and the moral condition of man, as between that world and 
his physical condition : but this province had been assigned to others ; 
and all systematic reference to that harmony has therefore been 
studiously avoided— though the constantly recurring difficulty has 
been to abstain from such a demonstration. 

But, it may possibly be observed, both the physical and moral re- 
lations of man are inevitably soon cut short by death : and though, 
in many instances, societies continue to be benefited through suc- 
cessive ages in consequence of the efforts of individuals, who have 
long since ceased to live, yet in many instances, on the other hand, 
the memorial not only of individuals, but of nations also, entirely 
perishes ; and all things apparently proceed, as if those individuals 
and nations had never existed. 

Shall we then, in concluding this treatise, simply admit the exist- 
ence of that harmony, the illustration of which was its professed 
object; and in admitting that existence shall we at the same time 
express our gratitude to that Power, which has thus amply provided 
for the physical wants of man, and for the developement of his in- 
tellectual faculties 1 That indeed would have been incumbent on us 
under any circumstances; and without any qualification arising 
from the partial occurrence either of disease, or famine, or any 
other form of physical evil. 

But, since they, to w T hom this treatise is addressed, are conscious 
that some ulterior cause exists for the adaptation of the external 
world to the nature of man, beyond the transient supply of his 
physical wants, or even the exercise of his intellectual faculties ; to 
have exhibited the bare fact of that adaptation, without some refer- 
ence to its final cause, would have been to leave the whole argu- 
ment without its just conclusion. 

Avoiding however the presumption of speculating on the nature 
of a future state of existence, we may, without any impropriety, 
assert, on the authority of revelation, that the happiness or misery 
of that state will depend much on the use we have made of that ex- 
ternal world which surrounds us ; and will coincide with the pre- 
vailing character of those habits which we have contracted in this 
life. 

This then is the sum of the whole argument. The Creator has 
so adapted the external world to the moral as well as the physical 
condition of man, and those two conditions act so constantly and 
reciprocally on each other, that in a comprehensive view of the rela- 
tion between the external world and man, we cannot easily lose 
Sight oi that most important connexion. And, if we extend our 
views to a future life, we are taught that the moral state, which has 
been induced by our prevailing animal or intellectual habits in this 
[lie, will be continued and perpetuated eternally in the next— "that 
in the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be"— that "it is ap- 
pointed unto men once to die ; but after this, the judgment." 



CONCLUSION. 



175 



Have we then, to refer first to our animal wants and desires, have 
we indulged without restraint in the pleasures of sense ; shrinking 
from every breath of heaven, unless previously tempered with luxu- 
rious warmth, and impregnated with the perfumes of the east? 
Have we weakened our intellectual faculties, and brutalized our 
moral feelings, by habitual inebriation ; abusing that gift of Heaven, 
which was intended as a restorative of exhausted nature 1 Instead 
of simply satisfying the calls of hunger by plain and moderate diet, 
have we provoked and pampered the appetite by all the luxuries 
which the animal and vegetable kingdoms can supply, till at length 
all appetite has been destroyed; pain and disease have been in- 
duced ; the human form and feature have been lost under a mass of 
loathsomeness and corruption ; and death, long wished for, yet 
dreaded, has arrived at last? we shall awake hereafter in another 
world, but in unaltered misery; without the hope of any second 
offer of release from the impurity and everlasting punishment of sin. 

Or, to refer to the intellectual part of our nature, in contemplating 
for instance the starry firmament, and in calculating the unerring 
motions of the heavenly bodies, have we been content to charac- 
terise the certainty and regularity of those motions as the result of 
necessity, or of the laws of an undefined agent called nature? And 
in thus failing to acknowledge explicitly the Author of those laws, 
though not indeed formally denying his existence, have we, like the 
nations of old, worshipped the creature, rather than the Creator ; 
and bowed down our knee, as it were, to the host of heaven ? — we 
may in that case hereafter suffer the penalty of our intellectual 
pride, in a mode severely just. The mind, which in this life failed 
to exercise its highest functions by adoring the Deity in the con- 
templation of his works, may be forbidden to extend the exercise of 
those functions in the next ; and, while it looks back with unuttera- 
ble torment to the forfeited pleasures of its former state, may be 
condemned, with torment infinitely increased, to expatiate eternally 
through new fields of knowledge, without the capability of even 
putting the sickle to the boundless harvest which they present. 

But if, happily, we have pursued a wiser course ; if, with Newton, 
we have delighted to deduce from the contemplation of the me- 
chanism of the heavenly bodies the power of Him who made them, 
and who alone sustains and directs their motions ; we may, and 
with faculties infinitely expanded, cultivate with him the same pure 
pleasures, which even on earth abstracted his desires from earthly 
wants ; and, enraptured with the harmonious movements of those 
endless systems, which neither our present organs can see, nor our 
present faculties apprehend, we may continue to be constantly ac- 
quiring new knowledge, constantly absorbed in new wonder and 
adoration of that Power, from whom, both in this world, and in 
that which is to come, all knowledge, and every other good and 
perfect gift are alone derived. 



APPENDIX. 



Having considered in the preceding pages the general opinions of 
Aristotle respecting the. physiology and classification of animals, I pro- 
pose in this Appendix to make a selection from his descriptions of some 
natural groups and individual species of animals, for the purpose of com- 
paring them with the corresponding descriptions of Cuvier ; confining 
myself, however, exclusively to the mammalia, which constitute the first 
class of vertebrated animals. And, as an introduction to that selection, 
I shall prefix a comparative view of the observations of the same two 
authors on some points connected with the general physiology of ani- 
mals ; presenting the whole in the form of two parallel columns, as the 
most convenient mode of exhibiting the comparison. In each column I 
shall endeavour to give a free but faithful translation of the original pas- 
sages, followed by the original passages themselves.* 

However extensive may have been the information of the ancients in 
that department of natural science which is now under consideration ; 
and however capable a mind like that of Aristotle must have been of 
deducing general conclusions from a systematic examination of facts, 
sufficiently numerous and various, for the purpose of effecting a natural 
classification of animals, it could not reasonably be expected that, ante- 
cedently to the knowledge of the circulation of the blood, and of the true 
character of respiration, and also of the physiology of the absorbent and 
nervous systems, a natural classification could have been accomplished 
on principles so satisfactory as at the present day. And those indivi- 
duals pay a very absurd homage to antiquity, who, on occasions like 
the present, would place the pretensions of the ancients upon an equality 
with those of the moderns: for the question does not regard the original 
powers of the mind, but the amount of accumulated knowledge on which 
those powers are to be exercised ; and it would indeed be extraordinary 
if, inverting the analogy of individuals, the world should not be wiser in 
its old age, than it was in its infancy. 

^ In comparing, then, the zoology of Aristotle with that of the moderns, 
it has not been my intention to prove that the classification of the one is 
built upon equally clear and extensive demonstrations as that of the 
other ; but to show, as in harmony with the general object of this trea- 
tise, that, even in the very dawn of science, there is frequently sufficient 



In order to abridge as much as possible the number and length of the extracts, 
^have occasionally merely stated a conclusion drawn from sevlral separate para- 

&l , S "; i ,n * tances 1 must cla ™ credit for having rightly understood, and 
tainy represented, the context. ° J 



ARISTOTLE AND CUVIER COMPARED. 



177 



light to guide the mind to at least an approximation to the truth — to a 
much nearer approximation, indeed, than could have been antecedently- 
expected by those who are not accustomed to reflect philosophically on 
the uniformity of the laws of nature. Thus, as has been already men- 
tioned, the advancement of science has shown the existence of such a 
general coincidence and harmony of relation between the several com- 
ponent parts of an individual animal, that even a partial acquaintance 
with the details of its structure will frequently enable the inquirer to 
ascertain its true place in the scale of organization. And hence, al- 
though Aristotle knew nothing of the circulation of the blood, or of the 
general physiology of the nervous system, and even comparatively little 
of the osteology of animals, yet subsequent discoveries have scarcely 
disturbed the order of his arrangement. He placed the ivhale, for in- 
stance, in the same natural division with common quadrupeds, because 
he saw that like them it is viviparous, and suckles its young, and re- 
spires by lungs and not by gills ; and with viviparous quadrupeds it is 
still classed ; the circulation of its blood, as well as the arrangement of 
its nervous system, being essentially the same as in that class of ani- 
mals. And, notwithstanding the difference of its form, its osteology, 
which holds an analogy throughout with that of quadrupeds, is the same 
actually in a part where it would be least expected : for, with the re- 
markable exception of the sloth, all viviparous quadrupeds have exactly 
seven cervical vertebra?, and so has the whale ; whereas fish, to the ge- 
neral form of which the whale closely approximates, having no neck, 
have no cervical vertebrae : and the deficiency of the neck in fish was 
recognised by Aristotle.* 



GENERAL PHYSIOLOGY. 



Aristotle. 

In some animals there is a mu- 
tual resemblance in all their parts ; 
as the eye of any one man resem- 
bles the eye of every other man : 
and it is the same with respect to 
the constituent parts of horses, or 
of any other animals, which are 
said to be of the same species : for 
in individuals of the same species, 
each part resembles its correspon- 
dent part as much as the whole 
resembles the whole. 

"E^ei 6s 7ov £wwv svia (xsv <7fav7a 7a 
fjt-opia 7au7a dKKrfkoig, b'via s'7spa. 7au- 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

Every organized body has its 
peculiar form : not only generally 
and exteriorly, but even in the de- 
tail of the structure of each of its 
parts ; and all the individuals which 
agree in the detail of their struc- 
ture are of the same species. 



Chaque corps organise a une 
forme propre, non-seulement en ge- 



176 



APPENDIX. 



Aristotle. 

la 5s la fASv sUsi 7wv jxopiuv ttf7/v, o/ov 
avdpwtfou |fc xow o<p6a\pog av^pwirou jivj 
xai o'pd aX|*w, xai tfapx* Cap! xai oV7£j 
otflouv 76v aulov 5s 7poVov xa< iWou xai 
7wv aXXwv £wwv, oVa 7w si5ei 7au7a Xs- 
yo.asv lai/Jois* o(Xo»wj ^ap wtftfsp 7o o'Xov 

g^Sl tfpO? ?0 O'XOV, XOU 7WV fttyiWV S^SI 

sxao^ov tfpog sxatf7ov. p. 1. 

All animals have certain common 
organs, by means of some of which 
they lay hold of, and into others of 
which they convey their food. The 
organ by which they lay hold of 
their food is called the mouth; that, 
into which they convey it, the sto- 
mach: but the other parts are called 
by various names. The form and 
relative proportions, structure, and 
position of these parts, are the same 
in the same species, but vary in dif- 
ferent species of animals. 

IIav7wv 5' stilt 7wv £wwv xoiva popia, 
& M-xfla\ TrjV IpocprjV xai Sig o 5t/slai' 
— KaXsJrai 5' > % fxsv Xa(x/3avsi, (flo^a, 
sig o 5s Ss^slaij xoiXi'a* 7o 5s Xoitfov rfo- 
Xuwvu^xov sdliv. — Tau7a <5' stf7i 7au7a 
xai sis pa xala lovg slpn^syovg Iporfovs, r} 
xa7' eiSoZ rj xa$' virspoyfiv r\ xaT «vaXo- 
yi'av ij If) &£(fsi biayspovla. p. 6. 

In addition to the mouth and sto- 
mach, most animals have other com- 
mon parts by which they exclude 
the refuse of their food: but in some 
animals these parts are wanting. 

Ms7a 5s 7au7a aXXa xoiva fxopia s~%si 
la rfysTtfla 7wv rfpog 7ou7oi£ ? r\ d<pi- 
r,<fi 7o tfspillu^a Irjg lpo(pr}g — ou yap tfa- 
tfiv \)K<xpys\ 7ou7o. p. 6. 

There are fibres of a peculiar 
kind in the blood : by the removal 
of which that fluid is prevented from 
coagulating: but if they are not 
removed, it does coagulate. And 
through defect of these fibres the 
blood of the deer and of some other 
animals does not coagulate. 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

neral et a l'exterieur, mais jusqne 
dans le detail de la structure de 
chacune de ses parties, p. 16, et tous 
les etres appartenans a Tune de ces 
formes constituent ce que Ton ap- 
pelle une espece. P. 19. 



The leading character of animals 
is derived from the existence of a 
reservoir for their food, that is, an 
intestinal canal, the organization of 
which varies according to circum- 
stances. 



De la (le reservoir d'alimens) de- 
rive le premier caractere des ani- 
maux, ou leur cavite intestinale. 
L'organisation de cette cavite et de 
ses appartenances a du varier selon 
la nature des alimens. P. 21, 22. 



The lowest animals have no other 
outlet for the refuse of their food, 
than that by which they admit the 
food itself. 

II n'y a que les derniers des ani- 
maux ou les excremens ressortent 
par la bouche, et dont l'intestin ait 
la forme d'un sac sans issue. P. 41. 



The blood contains a principle 
called Jibrine; which, within a short 
time after the blood has been with- 
drawn from the body, manifests 
itself in the form of membranes or 
filaments. 



ARISTOTLE AND CUVIER COMPARED. 



179 



Aristotle. 

*Etf7i Ss xai aXXo ysvog jvwv ? o yivs- 
lai jxsv gv ai'(xa7r — uv s^aipov^svuv sx 
lov aJ'/xa7o£ ou <tiY\yvolai 7o a//jia, sav $g 
fAr) e%aips6ti<fi 9 rfyyvvlai. p. 64. 'Ev (xsv 
ouv 7oj 7ojv <7rX£jV7wv a'l^ali £wwv gv?»rf»v ? 
gv 5g 7£ s'Xapou xai 1 tfpoxog xai /3ou- 
(3aX'iSos xai dXXwv 7<vwv oux g'vgjtfjv I'vgg* 
&o xa; ou iryyvvlai au7wv 7o a;;xa ojxoi'wj 
70% <xXXoj£ ? dXXa 7o /xgv 7wv gXd(pwv 
tfaparfXritfiug 7w 7wv £atfu<7ro'5wv.* p. 65. 

The particular senses are five in 
number, sight, hearing, smell, taste, 
and touch. Of these the sense of 
touch is alone common to all ani- 
mals; and is so generally diffused 
over the whole body, that it is not 
said to reside in any specific part. 
All animals do not possess all the 
senses ; some possess only a part of 
them. But no animal is without 
the fifth sense, that of touch. 

E<V< <5' a\ (ccid&TjtfSis) tfksTtfloLi, xai 
ntaf as ovSs^i'ia cpaivelai Idiog slspa, 
ifivls 7ov d^fyxov, o-^ig, dxorj, o<f(ppyitiig y 
ysvtfig, axpi). p. 100. ndtfj §s 1oTg £wo«£ 
aitf$r\tf\g ^i'a vrfapy^si xoivrj povrj y\ d<p'/) ? 
utile xai sv (3 au7yj jxo^i'w yivsd&ai Ks- 
(pvxev, dvwvujxov gtf7»v. p. 7. Ou yap 
Sjxoico^ rfatfiv uVd^outfjv (oLitf&Yjtfsig^ 
dXXa 1o7g fxsv Katfa\ 7oi£ gXd77ou£. 
p. 100. Tr,v Ss tii^iflrp aU&ritiiv 1r\v 
d(p^v xaXoujxg'vvjv — 7rdv7' s-/£i £wa. p. 
101. 

All animals which draw in and 
breathe out the air have lungs. 
Those animals which employ wa- 
ter, analogously to air, in respira- 
tion, have gills. 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

(Le fluide nourricier, ou le sang) 
— contient la fibrine et la gelatine 
presque toutes disposees a se con- 
tracter et a prendre les formes de 
membranes ou de filamens qui leur 
sont propres, du moins sufnt-il d'un 
peu de repos pour qu'elles s'y ma- 
nifested. P. 27. 



The most general external sense 
is that of touch ; its seat is the sur- 
face of the whole body. Many ani- 
mals are without the sense of hear- 
ing, and of smell, and of sight. 
Some have none of the senses ex- 
cept that of touch, which is never 
wanting. 



Le sens exterieur le plus general 
est le toucher; son siege est a la 
peau, membrane enveloppant le 
corps entier. P. 36. Beaucoup 
d'animaux manquent d'oreilles et 
de narines ; plusieurs d'yeux ; il y 
en a qui sont reduits au toucher, le- 
quel ne manque jamais. P. 37. 



When the element subservient to 
the process of respiration is the air, 
the organ of respiration is the 
lungs: when water, the gills. 



* It is deserving" of notice, that the animals whose blood is said not to coagulate 
are such as are usually killed in hunting" ; and it is understood by physiologists in 
eneral, that excessive exercise and violent mental emotions, both which occur in 
unted animals, prevent the blood from coagulating. Two of the species here 
mentioned by Aristotle (sr/iof and Snevirovs or hnyaos) are mentioned by Homer as 
commonly hunted : 

— ctyivitrMOV viol otvS^ig 
Aiy&s sjt' ay parkas, »St zt^okhsj «cTs Kctymovg, Odyss. p. 295. 



180 



APPENDIX. 



Aristotle. 

r 'OXws 8s rfdv7a oVa 7ov dspa 8syj- 
juisva avarfvsT xal sxrfvsT, rfav? bys\ irvsu- 
liova. p. 43. Ta f*sv ouv dvdXo^ov 7^ 
dvatfvo?] ypu^sva 7co typw fipayyia 
sys\. p. 215. 

Animals in general appear to 
have a certain degree of intellec- 
tual power, and some are capable 
of instruction. Some animals are 
cautious ; some are cunning. Man 
alone is capable of meditation and 
reflection. Many animals possess 
memory : no animal but man is 
capable of recollection. 



<f>aivov7a» yap (la £&a) syyvld liva 
Suvay^iv — Kspi Is (p^o'vvjtfjv xal sv7}Q<fiav — 
g'via 8s xoivuvsT Img djxa xal jxa^fl'swg 
yual 8dadxa\iag. p. 251. Ta fxsv <ppo- 
vi[ia — 7a o' s-ti(3ovka' — BouXsu7»xov 8s 
fAo'vov av&putfog stilt 7wv £wwv. xal \kvr\- 
jxsv xal 8i8ayjis tfoXXd xoivuvsT, 
dvafju/xv^fftea^aj 8s ov8sv aXXo <Wva7a» 
-ttX^v avfrpurfog. p. 6. 



In the great number of animals 
there are traces of the moral affec- 
tions of man; for some are mild 
and some are fierce. And the 
same thing may be very readily 
discerned in children, for in them 
we may perceive the germs o their 
future habits ; and indeed the dis- 
positions of human beings at that 
early period of life do not differ 
from those of the inferior animals. 

"Evstf7i yap iv %7g irXsitfloig xal 7wv 
dXXwv '{yyvi 7wv vtspl Irjv -\jvyriv 

Ipotfuv, a-tsp sit l 7wv dvfyuflrojv iyji (pa- 
vspuUpag las 8ia(popdg. p. 212. Ta 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

Quand cet element est de 1'air, la 
surface est creuse, et se nomme 
poumon; quand c'est de l'eau, elle 
est saillante, et s'appelle branchie. 
P. 43. 

Even the most perfect animals 
are infinitely inferior to man in the 
intellectual faculties ; although it is 
certain that their intelligence per- 
forms similar operations to those of 
the human mind: and they are ca- 
pable of instruction. Man has the 
faculty of associating his general 
ideas with particular images of a 
more or less arbitrary character, 
but easily imprinted in his memory, 
which serve to recall to him the ge- 
neral ideas which they represent. 

Les animaux les plusparfaits sont 
infiniment au-dessous de l'homme 
pour les facultes intellectuelles, et il 
est cependant certain que leur in- 
telligence execute des operations du 
meme genre — ils acquierent par 
Pexperience une certaine connais- 
sance des choses. P.51,52. L'hom- 
me a la faculte d'associer ses idees 
generates a des images particulieres 
et plus ou moins arbitraires, aisees 
a graver dans la memoire, et qui 
lui servent a rappeler les idees ge- 
nerales qu'elles representent. P. 50. 

Animals are susceptible of emu- 
lation, and jealousy, &c. In short, 
we may observe in the higher ani- 
mals a certain degree of the reason- 
ing faculty, which appears nearly 
the same with that of infants before 
they have acquired the power of 
speech. 



Ils sont susceptibles d'emulation 
et de jalousie — en un mot, on aper- 
coit dans les animaux superieurs 
un certain degre de raisonnement 



ARISTOTLE AND CUVIER COMPARED. 



181 



Aristotle. 

(*sv yap itilt tfpaa — la Ss QvpCiSvi. p. 6. 
3>avs/>w7a7ov stilt 11 7oiou7ov sift lr)v 
7wv rfaiduv rfkixiav (3\s-^atiiv sv loulotg 
yap 7wv fxsv vtilspov sgswv sVojxs'vwv stiliv 
tSsTv o;ov r^vrj xa< tiKs^ala, Siacpspsi 
,nu0sv w£ slrfsTv 7) -^v^r) ly)Z 7wv bripluiv 
^Xhi xa ^ a ^ v Xi° ' vov 7ou7ov. p. 212. 

As man possesses contrivance, 
and wisdom, and comprehension; 
so some animals possess a certain 
natural power, which, though not 
the same as, in some respects re- 
sembles, those faculties. 

*Clg yap sv av&pdtfu) Isyyv) xai tiotpla 
xai tiuvstitg, ovlug svioig 7wv ^uwv stilt lig 
sis pa loiaulr] (pvtiixr) Sova^ig. p. 212. 



All animals which have red blood 
have a spine or backbone : but the 
other parts of the bony system are 
wanting in some species, and pre- 
sent in others. The spine is the 
base or origin of the bony system : 
it is composed of vertebrae, which 
are all perforated ; and extends 
from the head to the hips : and the 
cranium is a continuation of its 
upper or anterior extremity. 



Xlavra Ss <ra ^Qa otia svat^a stinv, 
e%Mi ^a^iv— rot <5' ciXka (xopia rwv oV- 
tgjv htotg (xg'v saViv, svioig S' ovx stiriv. 
p. 66. 'Ap^ Ss 7] la-)(tg stiriv sv irutit 
To7g syovtiiv otira. tiuyxsirai 5' y\ ^a-^ig 
sx tf<pov<$uXwv, rslvst <$' arfo <rr\g xs(pu\r)£ 
|xs'^pj tfpoj <ra lti~)(ja. o) (xsv ouv titpovSv- 
Xot vtavrsg rsrpgfAsvoi sitf*v ? otvw Ss to 
Trig xs(pa\r)g otirovv tivvs^sg stin roig sti- 
yajrotg ti(povSj\oig y o xaksTrat xpav'iov. 
p. 65. 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

avec tous ses effets bons et mau- 
vais, et qui parait etre a peu pres 
le meme que celui des enfans lors- 
qu'ils n'ont pas encore appris a par- 
ler. P. 52. 



In a great number of animals 
there exists a faculty, different 
from intelligence, which is called 
instinct. 



II existe dans un grand nombre 
d'animaux une faculte difFerente 
de l'intelligence ; c'est celle qu'on 
nomme instinct, p. 53. 



The first general division of ani- 
mals includes all those which have 
a spine or backbone consisting of 
separate portions called vertebrae. 
The animals of this division are 
called vertebrated. They have all 
of them red blood : their body is 
composed of a head, trunk, and 
members : the spine, which is com- 
posed of vertebrae, having each an 
annular perforation, and moveable 
upon each other, commences at its 
upper or anterior extremity from 
the head; the lower or posterior 
extremity usually terminating in a 
tail. 

Dans la premiere de ces formes 
[generates,] qui est celle de l'homme 
et des animaux qui lui ressemblent 
le plus, le cerveau, &c. sont renfer- 
mes dans une enveloppe osseuse, 
qui se compose du crane et des 
vertebres. p. 57. Nous appellerons 
les animaux de cette forme les ani- 
maux vertebres. p. 58. Leur sang 
est toujours rouge, p. 63. Leur 
corps se compose toujours de la 
tete, du tronc et des membres. 
L'epine est composee de vertebres 



182 



APPENDIX. 



Aristotle. 



Red-blooded animals when in 
their perfect state have either no» 
extremities, or they have one or 
two pair. Those animals which 
have more than two pair are not 
red-blooded. 

In some animals the correspond- 
ing limbs are different in form, but 
analogous in use. Thus the ante- 
rior extremities of birds are neither 
hands nor feet, but wings. Fish 
have no limbs, but appendages, 
called fins, commonly four in num- 
ber, sometimes two. 

To. fxsv sWifAct TvyyavSi ovra—o&a 
■f) oc<7ro(5a sV<n ts'Xso. ovra (atfouv 8s (putiei 
ctfrlv fc'vaijuiov tfs^ov <ro tcjv ocpsuv ysvog, 
p. 10.) rj 81<ko8ol i] rSTpatfo&x. <rot <T 
avaijaa — iruvfr oVa ir'hsmg ifd8ag syz\ 
■rs-rrapwv. p. 7. "Evja 8s tojv ^w'wv outs 
si8si <r<% (xop»a tojotol s^s'i ovrs xufr itfSp- 
o^v xal sXXsivj^jv, aXXd xar' dvaXo- 
yica. p. 2. XsTpag 8' ov8s it68ag ^potf- 
GlovZ s~x}\ (ol opvj^sj,) dXXdt <itTspx>yag 
i'5iov ifpog <ra aXXa ££a. p. 38. Au- 
)(t'va 5' ou^s.^ s'^si i^Off, ov8s xwXov ou- 
dsv — i'<W 8' s^outfj—ra tfrspOyia, ol 
fA£v •^Xsmj'toi TSTTapa, ol 5s tfpo^xsig 
rSuo. p. 40. 



The red-blooded animals are 
man, viviparous and oviparous 
quadrupeds, birds, fish, cetaceous 
animals, and snakes, &c. 



"EflVi 8s tolvtol gu« sva»fxa) avfyw- 
tfoV <rt xou <rd ^cooroxa tgjv TSTpoMro<k>v, 
:Ti 06 xai to, wo-roxa tojv rSTpa<7r6<$wv 
xai opvig xai /^Og xai x^ro£ xai — oW. 
p. 42, 43. 



Cavier, torn. I. 



mobiles les unes sur les autres, 
dont la premiere porte la tete, et 
qui ont toutes une partie annulaire. 
p. 62, 63. Le plus souvent 1'epine 
se prolonge en une queue, p. 63. 



Their extremities never exceed 
two pair in number: sometimes one 
pair is wanting, sometimes both. 



The form of the extremities va- 
ries according to the uses to which 
they are to be applied ; the anterior 
extremities being hands, or feet, or 
wings, or fins; the posterior, feet 
or fins. 



H n'y a jamais plus de deux paires 
de mem ores ; mais elles manquent 
quelquefois Tune ou I'autre, ou 
toutes les deux, et prennent deg 
formes relatives aux mouvemens 
qu'elles doivent executer. Les 
membres anterieurs peuvent etre 
faits en mains, en pieds, en ailes 
ou en nageoires ; les posterieurs, 
en pieds ou en nageoires. p. 63. 



The division of vertebrated ani- 
mals includes man, the mammalia 
consisting of viviparous quadru- 
peds and the cetacea, birds, reptiles 
of all kinds, many of which, though 
oviparous, are quadrupeds, and 
fish. 

Subdivision des animaux verte- 
bres. L'homme — les singes, &c. — 
les cetaces — les oiseaux — tortues 
— serpens — poissons. Tom. i. 67. 
— ii. 351. 



ARISTOTLE AND CUVIER COMPARED. 



Aristotle. 

Animals of the largest size are 
found among those which are red- 
blooded. All animals which have 
colourless blood are smaller in size 
than those which have red blood ; 
with the exception of a few marine 
animals, as some of the sepiae.* 

Tojtw Siacpspsi to. (xsyidVoo ysvr\ <7Tpo£ 
ra Xoitfa twv aXXwv £wwv, tw rot y&v 
i'vajjxa <ra <T avajjxa sfvoa. p. 42. Ilav- 
ra <5s <ra avaijxa sya.rru <ra {xsyiQri scfri 
tcJv svaijxwv ^uwv tfX^v oXfya sv <r?5 
daX«<nr/j fxsi'^ova avajjxa sV<nv ? oJov <ro5v 
fxaXaxi'wv svjoc. p. 9. 

All red-blooded animals have the 
five senses. 

"Av^pwtfo? fxsv ouv — xctl otfa svaifAa. 
xa; ^woroxa, itavra (pa.lv srou i'^ovra 
rauTa^ tfatfas (a/C^CsiS.) p. 100. 



183 

Cuvier, torn. I. 

Vertebrated animals, all of which 
have red blood, attain to a much 
larger size than those whose blood 
is colourless. 



C'est parmi eux (les animaux 
vertebres) que se trouvent les plus 
grands des animaux. p. 62. Le 
sang est toujours rouge, p. 63. 



Vertebrated animals have always 
two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, 
the integuments of the tongue and 
those of the whole body. 

Les sens exterieurs sont toujours 
deux yeux, deux oreilles, deux na- 
rines, les tegumens de la langue, et 
ceux de la totalite du corps, p. 64. 



MAMMALIA. 



No animal which is not vivipa- 
rous has breasts : and even of vivi- 
parous animals those only have 
them which produce their young 
alive at once, without the interven- 
tion of an egg. 

The milk is not, as the blood is, 
a fluid which animals possess from 
their birth, but a subsequent secre- 
tion ; and is contained in the breasts. 
And all those animals have breasts 
which are essentially or directly vi- 
viparous ; as man, and such quad- 
rupeds as are covered with hair; 
and also cetaceous animals, as the 
dolphin, the seal, and the whale. 

Ovdsv <rwv jx?) ^ojotoxouvtuv (ep(Si f*atf- 
fou£,) ovds r» ^woroxouvra itavrcc ctXX' 
otfa svQvg sv avroTg ^woroxsr xai jx^ 



The animals of the class mam- 
malia are essentially viviparous ; 
inasmuch as a direct communica- 
tion is established between the em- 
bryo and the parent immediately 
after' conception. 

The new-born offspring is nou- 
rished for a time by milk, which is 
a special and temporary secretion 
from the mammae; organs, so ex- 
clusively peculiar to this class, as 
to have determined the distinctive 
appellation mammalia. This class 
includes all the common viviparous 
quadrupeds; together with the seal, 
and the dolphin, and other cetacea. 

La generation dans tous les 
mammiferes est essentiellement vi- 
vipare ; c'est-a-dire que le foetus, 



* See a curious engraving- in Montfort, Hist. Nat. des Mollusques, torn. ii. p. 256, 
^presenting a gigantic sepia grasping a ship and its rigging. 



184 



APPENDIX. 



Aristotle. 

o;o7o:<:rcp^>ov. p. 40. Twv Ss otpsuv 6 
jULSv gyig ^uoroxsT sfw, sv awtj tfpwTov 
$f>*wii<fa§. p. 151. ATfxa u/pov tfuf*- 
<puTov sVt« roig £wo»s* utfTSpoysvsj 5e xa/ 
uiroxpi[iivov owfao"iv 7 oVav sv?], sygflVi, to 
yaXa* — g'^si 5s, otfa s'x s ' yaAa, sv 
roTg iMiifroig. fJiatfTouV 5' s^si J<fa %uo- 
roxst xai s'v auTofe xal sfw, oiov otfa ts 
Tpi'^aj i'x 5 '? ^oVs^ av0pw<jro£ xai )Wo£, 
xa/ Tci x'/jtt], o/ov SeXtplg xal (pwxyj xai 
(paXaiva* xa; yap TauTa (xaoVous s^Si 
xa/ yaXa. p. 77. 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

immediatement apres la conception, 
descend dans la matrice, enferme 
dans ses enveloppes — qui etablis- 
sent entre lui et sa mere une com- 
munication, d'ou il tire sa nourri- 
ture. p. 75, 76. 

Les petits se nourissent pendant 
quelque temps, apres leur nais- 
sance, d'une liqueur particuliere a 
cette classe (le lait,) laquelle est 
produite par les mammelles — qui 
ont valu a cette classe son nom de 
mamiferes, attendu que lui etant 
exclusivement propres, elles la dis- 
tinguent mieux qu'aucun autre ca- 
ractere exterieur. p. 76. De la 
classe des mammiferes sont l'hom- 
me — les singes — le cheval — les 
phoques — le dauphin — les baleines, 
&c. p. 79—284. 



MAN. 



All animals which have limbs re- 
sembling those of man, have their 
legs and thighs and hips sparingly 
covered with flesh ; whereas in 
man these parts are more fleshy 
than any other. 



Of all animals man has, in pro- 
portion to his size, the largest brain ; 
and the smallest interval between 
his eyes ; and the most delicate 
sense of touch and of taste. 

No animal but man has its breasts 
in the front of the chest; the ele- 
phant, like the human female, has 
two breasts, but they are placed on 
the side. 

No animal but man has the fa- 
culty of articulate speech ; which 
consists of vowels pronounced by 
means of the larynx, and of conso- 
nants formed by the tongue and 



The muscles which extend the 
foot and thigh of man are more 
powerful than those of any other 
animal: and hence the calf of the 
leg is particularly prominent. The 
part called the pelvis, situate be- 
tween the hips, is altogether pro- 
portionally larger, in man than in 
any other animal. 

No quadruped has so large a 
brain as man. His eyes are so 
placed as to be necessarily directed 
only forwards. In the delicacy of 
the sense of taste and touch man 
excels ail other animals. 

The female breasts are placed in 
front of the chest. 



He possesses an advantage pe- 
culiar to himself in the organs of 
voice ; for he alone is capable of ut- 
tering articulate sounds ; a power 
which apparently depends on the 



ARISTOTLE AND CUVIER COMPARED. 



185 



Jlristotle. 

lips: the dolphin, therefore, which 
has a voice in consequence of its 
possessing lungs, and a larynx, 
cannot articulate, because its tongue 
is not readily moveable, and it has 
no lips. 

ITdvra 6s rd TSrpoirfoda oVtw^tj rot 
dxsky] sys\ — xa; dtfapxa — stfri ds xa; 

dvitf^itx o Ss avQpuirog Touvavn'ov tfap- 

xudr) yap lyz\ tf^S(5ov jxdXitf-ra <rou tfw- 
fz-aroj <rd /V^/a xa/ <rou£ p-ipous 1 xa« <ra£ 
xv^fjuaf. p. 29. 

"E^si £g (syxgipaXov) dVavra otfa 
g^gj aTfAa — xard ^iys^c, 8' bpoiwg syei 
av0pw<7ro<r ^Xsrorov gyxs'(paXov. p. 19. 
Td 5' o,a;xa<ra gXa^iVrov xa-rd psysQog 
f jistfrr\xsv dv£pw#w <rwv ^uwv. I'^si (5' 
dxpi(3s<fra.rriv dv&purfog <r£)v aitfQrjtfsuv 
T7}v d(p?jv, <5gurg'pav $5 «n}v ygutfrv. p. 
18, 19. 



MaflVoOs 5' oux s^si ou$sv gv <r£ tfpoV- 
dXX' 7j a^l^pu<ffog• 6 5' sXicpag s^si 
fxsv (xaaVoug 5jo, aXX' oux gv rco (frrfisi 
dXXdt tfpo£ tw cfT^gi. p. 26. 

Td 5e ^woroxa xa/ <re<rpd'7r'o<5a £wa 
dXXo dXX?]v dcp*r]0'i (pwvyjv, chdXgxrov 5' 
ou$gv g'^gj aXX' j'&ov tout' dv^pw , 7rou gtf- 
Ti'v. (p. 107.) Siocksxrog 6' 7} Tr t g (puvrjg 
fffrl TYj y\urrp Sizp&putfig. roc fxgv oiiv 
pwvyjgvra '/j cwv^ xa/ 6 Xdpuy| dcpHtfjVj 
rd 5' dcpwva 7] yXwrra xa/ <rd ^siXij* 
g| 7] (JidXgxro'c; gcViv. p. 105. 'Acpj- 
tjCi 5g xa; o Ss\(pig rpiyjxov xa/ (xu^gi — 
soVi yap toutw (pwv^ — dXXd t^v ^Xojt- 
rav oux owroXsXiijxgvTjv (g^si) ou$g ^siX?) 
wtf<rs apdpov <n <r% (pwvjjf iroieTv. p. 106. 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

form of his mouth, and the great 
flexibility of his lips. 



Les muscles qui retiennent le 
pied et la cuisse (de l'homme) dans 
l'etat d' extension sont plus vigou- 
reux (que ceux d'aucun mammi- 
fere) ; d'ou resulte la saillie du mol- 
let et de la fesse — le bassin est plus 
large, p. 82. 

Aucun quadrupede n'approche 
de lui pour la grandeur et les replis 
des hemispheres du cerveau. p. 84. 
Ses deux yeux sont diriges en 
avant ; il ne voit point de deux 
cotes a la fois, comme beaucoup de 
quadrupedes. La delicatesse de 
l'odorat doit influer sur celle du 
gout, et l'homme doit d'ailleurs 
avoir de I'avantage, a cet egard, 
an moins sur les animaux dont la 
langue est revetue d'ecailles ; enfin, 
la finesse de son toucher resulte, 
et de celle de ses tegumens, &c. 
p. 85. 

Ses mammelles, au nombre de 
deux seulement, sont situees sur la 
poitrine. p. 88. 

L'homme a une preeminence 
particuliere dans les organes de sa 
voix ; il peut seul articuler des 
sons; la forme de sa bouche et la 
grande mobiJite de ses levres en 
sont probablement les causes, p, 
86. 



13* 



186 



APPENDIX. 



APES, &C. 



Aristotle. 

The feet of apes are peculiar, and 
resemble large hands, the toes be- 
ing like fingers, and the under sur- 
face of the hind foot like the palm 
of the hand, but terminating in a 
badly shaped heel. Hence they 
often use their feet as hands. Their 
arms resemble those of man, as 
also their hands, and fingers, and 
nails ; and they bend their extremi- 
ties in the same direction as man 
does.* The upper part of their 
body being larger than the lower 
part, as is the case with decided 
quadrupeds ; and their feet partak- 
ing of the character of hands; their 
pelvis moreover, being small ; they 
are from these joint causes incapa- 
ble of continuing long in an erect 
position. 

Like man they have two mam- 
mas on the chest ; and their internal 
anatomy resembles the human. 



Some of the apes (tfi^xoi) re- 
semble man in many points, as to 
their face: for they have nostrils 
and ears ; and both their front and 
back teeth not much unlike those 
of man. 

0» bz <Kiby\KM — j'<$j'oii£ <rou£ tfodag 
(eXovttt)- ski yap o/ov x s »f>S£ fxsyaXai, 
xa» oi daxrvkoi titftsp oi tgjv ^;s»pwv, 6 
fw'tfos fxaxpo'raro?, xai to xaru tou tfo- 

dog X £i P[ fyj,OIOV, tfX^V Stfi TO jx5jX0£ TO 

rrjd ^ejpo£ ix} <ra sC^cwa ts/vov, xa&a- 
tsp Qsvap' touto Se sir' axpov tfxXijpors- 
pov,xaxu£ xai dpvdptjg ^ifAoufjugvov tfTsp- 
v»jv. x^pyjTai 8s roig tfotf/v eV a/x(pw, xai 

* The same is true of quadrupeds in £ 
totle mistook the joint at the heel and w 



Cuvier, torn. L 

The hind feet of the quadrumana 
(to which order apes belong) have 
a thumb capable of being opposed 
to the other toes, which are as long 
and as flexible as the fingers ; 
whence they are capable of climb- 
ing well ; but they do not easily 
walk or support themselves in an 
erect position, because their pelvis 
is narrow, and the plane of the un- 
der surface of their feet is not hori- 
zontal. 



In the character of their intes- 
tines, in the direction of their eyes, 
and in the position of their breasts, 
they resemble man ; and the struc- 
ture of their fore-arms and hands 
enables them to imitate us in many 
of their gestures and actions. 

The higher species of apes have 
flat nails ; and teeth very much re- 
sembling the human both in num- 
ber and arrangement, and also in 
form : and they have no tail. 

Les quadrumanes different de 
notre espece par le caractere tres- 
sensible, que ses pieds de derriere 
ont les pouces libres et opposables 
aux autres doigts, et que les doigts 
des pieds sont longs et flexibles 
com me ceux de la main ; aussi tou- 
tes les especes grimpent-elles aux 
arbres avec facilite, tandis qu'elles 

eneral : in most of which, however, Aris- 
ist, for that of the knee and elbow. 



ARISTOTLE AND CUVIER COMPARED. 



Aristotle. 

ug X s ?^ 1 xai ^ rfotit, xal (jvyxaptfrsi 
utfrfsp ^sTpag.- — "E^si 6s xal /3pa^;ova£ 
wflVsp ccv#pwTro£, tfX^v SatfsTg* xal xd(xtf- 
<rsi xal rourovg xal to, <Sxekr\ woVsp av- 
#pw<7ros' — Kplg £s touVoj£ x £ ^P a ^ xa ' ^ ax " 
tuXous 1 xa; ovv/ag ojxoj'ous' «v^pw^w, tfX7]v 
^ravra raura tftl to d'/jptw^sflVspov. Tdc 
5' avw tou xowrw <7roXu (J-si'^ova e^ 5 '? C ^ (T '" 
#sp Tot TSTpoWo&x — xal 8\a t£ Taura 
xa; Sia to tou? tfo'c^ag s^sjv 6(xo/ouj ^sptfj 

(JjaTSXsr TOV tfXSJW XP°' V0V TSTpK-'n'OUV 

ov jxaXXov ?j o'pf)ov* xa; our' jV^i'a s%£» 
o)£ TSrpowrouv ov. p. 35, 36. 

Ta <$' evro£ <5;a;ps$s'vra ojxoia s^outfiv 
av^pwtfw rfavra ra Toiaura. p. 36. "E^sj 
6' sv tgj rfT^s» <5uo 0?]Xd£ fAarfTGJv (xixpcDv. 
p. 35.' 



To <5e <ff'poa'oj<7r'ov s^s; tfoXXa£ 6(Xo;o- 
Tr\Tag tw tou dv^poj^ou" xa; yap (xuxttj- 
pa£ xa/ wra rfapa<n''k7](fia s^si, xa/ o<5ov- 
Ta£ waVsp o dv#pw<7ro£, xa; v tou£ <7rpotft);ou£ 
xa; touV yojiipi'ouj, p. 35. 



187 

Cuvier, torn. I. 

ne se tierment et ne marchent de- 
bout qu'avec peine, leur pied ne se 
posant aJors que sur le tranchant 
exterieur, et leur bassin etroit ne 
favorisant point l'equilibre. p. 100, 



Elles ont toutes des intestins as- 
sez semblables aux notres, les 
yeux diriges en avant, les mam- 
melles sur la poitrine. p. 100. La 
liberte de leurs avant-bras et la 
complication de leurs mains leur 
permettent a toutes beaucoup d'ac- 
tions et de gestes semblables a 
ceux de 1'homme. p. 101. 

Les singes — ont a chaque ma- 
choire quatre dents incisives droi- 
tes, et a tous les doigts des ongles 
plats ; deux caracteres qui les rap- 
prochent de 1'homme plus que les 
genres suivans ; leurs molaires 
n'ont aussi, comme les notres, que 
des tubercules mousses, p. 101. 



THE HEDGEHOG AND PORCUPINE. 



Porcupines and land-ecbini, or 
hedgehogs, are covered with spines, 
which are properly to be consider- 
ed in these animals as a kind of 
rigid and indurated hair ; for these 
spines do not serve the purpose of 
feet, as they do in sea-echini. 

Tpi^iSv yap t» eiSog Qsriov xal Tag 
dxav0w£si£ rpr^af, oi'a£ o; ^sptfaTbi t'^ou- 
tfjv s^jvoi xa; o; utfTpjp^* Tpj^oV yap 
Xpsiav tfap/^outfjv, dXX' ou rfoduv, uxftfsp 
oi t6jv $aXarr;'wv. p. 10. 



Hedgehogs have their body co- 
vered with quills instead of hair; 
and so have porcupines. 



Les herissons et les porcepics 
ont le corps couvert de piquans au 
lieu de poils. p. 132 et 208. 



188 



APPENDIX. 



THE 

Aristotle. 

All viviparous animals have eyes, 
except the mole; and even this ani- 
mal, although it has neither the fa- 
culty of sight, nor eyes readily vi- 
sible, cannot be said to be altoge- 
ther without eyes ; for if its skin be 
taken off, you may distinguish not 
only the natural situation of the 
eyes, but that black central part of 
the eye itself in which the pupil is 
contained; as if these organs had 
been imperfectly developed, and the 
skin had grown over them. If the 
skin, which is thick, be stripped off 
from the head, you may perceive 
on its inner surface, and in the 
usual region, distinct eyes ; which, 
though small and shrunk, as it 
were, have all the essential parts 
of those organs, namely, a pupil 
placed in the centre of the black 
part of the eye, and that black part 
surrounded by the white.* 

Zojoto'xo, tfavra (c'^si opf)aX|xou§) 
utfrfaXuxog. toutov 8s TpoVov fxs'v tiv' 
£%£iv «v &s'iy) <ns, 6'Xws <$' oux s^sjv. 
oXwff (xsv ydp oud' opa out lyz\ sig to 
(pavspov t)?jXou£ o(p$aXfjooj£- dcpaips&svrog 
8s tou <5s'pfj.aTo£ *X Sl T£ X^? av ' r( ^ v 
o'/XfxetTwv xaJ tojv otp^aXfxcjv to, (Xs'Xava 
xa<ra tov toVov xa/ t^v %wpav ttjv (putfsi 
rofg o^aXjxoIs OVotp^outfav sv tgj £xto£, 
w£ sv <nj ysvetfsi tfripoufAsvwv xca tVjcpwo- 
/xivou tou 5/p(xaT0<r. p. 13. 'Acpoupe- 
^c'vrog 8i tou ^'pjxaToj 6'vTog Ka-y^iag owro 
TTjg xstpaX^ xaTO, <r>,v X^p av <r> 'J v ^'i w 
twv ofXfxaTwv gtfwds'v sjVjv oi o'cpdaXfW 
^»t(pOap(xevoi, tfavT' g^ovrsg raura t# 
fAs'pyj to i j aXyj^/jvoi's* t^outfi yap to tS 
fxe'Xav xcu to svtoj tou jXiXavoj t^v xa- 
XoufAs'v/]v xo'prjv, xa< to xuxXojtfiov. p. 
100, 101. 



I O L E. 

Cuvier, torn. I. 

The eye of the mole is so small, 
and so concealed by the skin, that 
for a long time this animal was sup- 
posed to be without eyes. The 
blind rat-mole has no visible trace 
of external eyes ; but in taking off 
the skin, a very small black point 
is observable, which appears to 
have the organization of an eye, 
without the possibility of being em- 
ployed as such, because the skin 
passes over it not only in an entire 
state, but as thick and as closely 
covered with hair as in any other 
part of the face. This may proba- 
bly be the animal which, according 
to M. Olivier, gave the idea to the 
ancients of describing the mole as 
totally blind.f 



Son ceil est si petit, et tellement 
cache par le poil, qu'on en a nie 
long-temps fexistence. p. 137. Le 
rat-taupe aveugle — n'a meme point 
du tout d'ceil visible au dehors : 
mais quand on eleve sa peau, on 
trouve un tres-petit point noir qui 
parait organise comme un ceil, sans 
pouvoir servir a la vision, puisque 
la peau passe dessus sans s'ouvrir 
ni s'amincir, et sans y avoir moins 
de poils qu'autre part. — II se pour- 
rait, comme le dit M. Olivier, qu'il 
eut donne aux anciens l'idee de 
fair la taupe toute-a-fait aveugle. p. 
201. 



* KvKX^Triov (p. 101.) is evidently synonymous with \ivw. (p. 12.) 
f By an examination of Aristotle's description it is evident that the ancients 
knew the true state of the case, namely, that the mole has eyes. 



ARISTOTLE AND CUVIER COMPARED. 



189 



THE 

Aristotle. 

The bear is an omnivorous ani- 
mal, living on various fruits, on 
honey, on ants, and on flesh ; at- 
tacking not only the smaller ani- 
mals, but even wild boars and 
bulls.* The feet of the bear re- 
semble hands ; and for a short time 
this animal can walk erect on its 
two hind feet. 

f H (5' apxrog tfapupayov stfn. xai ydp 
xaptfov sC^i'ei— xaf (xs'Xj — xai fxupjXTjxas', 
xai (fapxo(pays7. did yap <rry sffi- 
TiQsrui ou (Jiovov roTg sXdcpoig aXXee xai 
roTg dyploig utfjv — xai roTg ra\jpo\g' clod's 
y^p^ada yap <rw raupw xara tfpoVw- 
tfov vrfria xaraT(iKrz\) xai rov ravpov 
rvKrziv siri^Sipovvrog roTg (xsv (3pa%io(fi 
rd xipara irspi\a^(3avst, ru> <5s drd^an 
t^v axpuiiiav daxovda xara(3dKksi rov 
ravpov. fiaSi^si <5' sti <nva ^povov oX»- 
yov xai roTv ovoiv tfodow op&r}. p. 224. 



1EAR. 
# 

Cuvier, torn. I. 

The bear though so powerful an 
animal is not disposed to feed on 
flesh, unless when compelled by 
want of other food. Bears walk 
on the whole sole of the foot, and 
are thus enabled to raise them- 
selves with comparative ease in an 
erect position on their hind feet. 

Les ours — malgre leur extreme 
force, ne mangent-ils guere de 
chair que par necessite. lis mar- 
chent sur la plante entiere, ce qui 
leur donne plus de facilite pour se 
dresser sur leurs pieds de derriere. 
p. 141. 



THE SEAL. 



The seal brings forth its young 
on shore, but passes most of its 
time in the sea, and derives its 
nourishment from thence. With 
respect to its extremities, it may 
be considered as an imperfect quad- 
ruped ; for immediately in succes- 
sion to its shoulder blades it has 
feet resembling hands and on 
each foot are five toes, and each 
toe has three joints : the hind feet 
in their shape resemble the tail of 
a fish. All the teeth of the seal are 
sharp and pointed, as indicating 



The feet of the seal are so short, 
and so enveloped in the skin, that 
on land they only serve them for 
crawling ; but, as the interstices of 
the toes are filled up with mem- 
brane, they act as excellent oars ; 
and hence these animals pass the 
greater part of their life in the sea, 
only coming to land for the purpose 
of basking in the sun and suckling 
their cubs. They have five toes on 
each of their feet : and on the hind 
feet the outermost and innermost 
are longest, the intermediate being 



* Its mode of engaging with the bull is thus described by Aristotle : " In engag- 
ing the bull, the bear throws itself on its back ; and, while the bull is attempting to 
toss it, the bear takes the bull's horns between its paws, and thus overthrows its 
adversary." 

f From the shortness of the arm and fore-arm in this animal, Aristotle overlooked 
these parts. 



190 



APPENDIX. 



Aristotle. 

the approximation of their nature 
to fish ; almost all fish having teeth 
of that character. The seal has a 
cloven tongue. 

'H 8s cpuxy] — rixrei sv rj) yfi fxsv — 
SiurpifSei Si =rou ^povou <rov tfoXuv xat 
rpscpsrai ex <r/js 0aXa<r<ni£. p. 167, 168. 
? H 8s <pwxr] wtftfsp ^s^pwjxsvov sV<n <rs- 
TpaTTouv su0u£ yap g^s< (xsm tt)v wfxo- 
irXa-r/jv touj tfodag b^oiovs ^sptfiv — tfsv- 
ra^axruXoj yap s/Vj, xa>" sxatfro^ rwv 
GaxruXwv xafjt-tfas t'^si rpsfe — oi <$' 0V1V- 
0joj — rc5 tf^pwrj rfapcvrr'k'rj&ioi Tcui rwv 
/^^uwv oupafe siVj. p. 27. Kap^apo- 
$ouv sV<W tfatfi rofc o'^outfiv, w£ sVaXXa<r- 
coutfa rwysvsj twv l^&vuv oi yap i'^usj 
tfavrss ff^s^ov xap^apoiJovrsV SiViv. p. 
33. "E#si 5s — sV^itf^sv^v to-jv yXwr- 
<rav. p. 48. 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

shortest. All their teeth have either 
pointed or cutting edges. Their 
tongue is indented at the extre- 
mity. 

Leurs pieds sont si courts, et 
tellement enveloppes dans la peau, 
qu'ils ne peuvent, sur terre, leur 
servir qu'a ramper ; mais com me 
les intervalles des doigts y sont 
remplis par des membranes, ce 
sont des rames excellentes ; aussi 
ces animaux passent-ils la plus 
grande partie de leur vie dans la 
mer, et ne viennent a terre que 
pour se reposer au soleil, et allaiter 
leurs petits. p. 163, 164. Les pho- 
ques ont — cinq doigts a tous les 
pieds — au pieds de derriere, le 
pouce et le petit doigt sont Jes plus 
longs, et les intermediares les plus 
courts. Toutes les dents sont tran- 
chantes ou coniques. p. 164 Leur 
langue est lisse, et echancree au 
bout. p. 165. 



THE EL 

The elephant has five toes on 
each foot; though the joints of 
these are not very distinct. It has 
four teeth on each side of its mouth, 
with which it triturates its food, 
and makes it as smooth as bran : 
and besides these it has two very 
large teeth. It has a long and pow- 
erful proboscis, which it uses as a 
hand ; for with this organ it takes 
up and conveys to its mouth both 
solid and liquid food. Its intestines 
have appendages, presenting the 
appearance of four stomachs": and 
it has two mammae placed by the 
side of the chest, near the axillae. 
The eul) of the elephant sucks with 
its mouth, and not with its probo- 
scis. 



1PHANT. 

Elephants have on each foot five 
toes, very well defined in the skele- 
ton, but so embedded in the callous 
skin enveloping the foot that they 
can only be recognised externally 
by their nails, which are attached 
to the edge of this hoof as it were. 
They have two tusks, which some- 
times grow to an enormous size ; 
and either four or eight grinding 
teeth on each side according to the 
periods of their developement. The 
proboscis, terminating in an appen- 
dage like a finger, gives to the ele- 
phant a degree of address equal to 
that which the hand of the ape im- 
parts to that animal. The elephant 
uses this proboscis for the purpose 
of conveying solid food or pumping 
up liquids into its mouth. The in- 
testines of the elephant are volumi- 



ARISTOTLE AND CUVIER COMPARED. 



191 



Aristotle. 



"Effri §s irevraSaxTv'kov (b e\s(poLs) — 
ret rs <7T£p; roig SaxroXoog dSictp&puTO- 
TSpa s%si <r&v rfoSCiv. p. 25. s O (5' s\s- 
cpag o8ovrag (xsv s%ei <rsV<rapa£ s<p' Ixa- 
<rspa, ofe xa<rspya£sra; t^v rpo<p^v (Xsai- 
vs» <5' woVsp xpj t ava,) #wp;£ <5s rourojv 
aXkovg 8oo rovg ^syaXovg. p. 34. Tofs 
(5s s"kozpa<fiv 6 (xuxr^p y'lvSTai (xaxpo£ xa; 
/V^upof, xa; ^p^Ta; aurw wflVsp #s;pr 
TTpoa'aySTaj <rs yap xa; Xaf/o/3avs; tojtw 
xa; S/g to tf-ro'jxa «rpoff'(ps'psraj <rqv Tpo^v, 
xcci rr/v uypav xa/ r^v fpipav, fxo'vov tojv 
£wwv. p. 14. ? (5s sXscpaj sVspov s A si 
(fv^tpvcfsig s%ov, &<Srs (pa/vstfdaj rsV-rapag 
xoiXi'a? s^Siv p. 47. "E%si (5s <rou£ 
jU,aoVou£ (5jo -TTSp; rug fxatf^aXaj — =-yux 
h tui (f~7}8si dXXa "ffpos rui (frr)&si. p. 
30 et 26. e O (5s tfxyfxvoso <rav ysvr,rcu, 
(5y)Xa£si rw tfVojxar; xaj ou r£j fxuxrr/p;. 
p. 191. 

Camper says that in almost all 
points the anatomy of the elephant 
is correctly represented by Aristo- 
tle ; the apparent inconsistencies 
arising from his having dissected a 
young elephant. Tom. if. p. 205, 
&c. 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

nous ; it has two mammae placed 
under the breast, and its cub sucks 
with the mouth, and not with the 
trunk. 

(Les elephans) ont cinq doigts a 
tous les pieds, bien complets dans 
le squelette, mais tellement encrou- 
tes dans la peau calleuse qui en- 
toure le pied, qu'ils n'apparaissent 
au dehors que par les ongles at- 
taches sur le bord de cette espece 
de sabot, p. 228, 229. Deux de- 
fenses qui sortent de Ja bouche et 
prennent souvent un accroissement 
enorme. p. 229. Tantot une, tan- 
tot deux machelieres de chaque 
cote, quatre ou huit en tout, selon 
les epoques. p. 231. Une trompe 
cylindrique — terminee par un ap- 
pendice en forme de doigt — donne 
a l'elephant presque autant d'a- 
dresse que la perfection de la main 
peut en donner au singe. II s'en 
sert pour saisir tout ce qu'il veut 
porter a sa bouche et pour pomper 
sa boisson. p. 229. Les intestins 
sont tres-volumineux — les mam- 
melles, au n ombre de deux seule- 
ment, placees sous la poitrine. Le 
petit tette avec la bouche et non 
avec la trompe. p. 230. 



RUMINATING ANIMALS. 



All viviparous quadrupeds which 
have horns are without the front 
teeth in the upper jaw ; and some 
indeed which have no horns have 
the same defect with respect to the 
teeth, as the camel. 

Of viviparous quadrupeds some 
are cloven-footed and have hoofs 
instead of claws, as the ox, sheep, 
goat, and deer. The same animals 
have four stomachs, and are said 
to ruminate. 



With the exception of the camel 
and the musk, all the animals of 
this order have horns ; and all are 
without front teeth in the upper 
jaw. 

The feet terminate in two toes, 
each of which is covered with a 
separate hoof, and is opposed to 
its fellow by a flat surface; from 
whence they are called cloven-foot- 
ed. The animals of this order are 
called ruminating; and have al- 
ways four stomachs. 



192 



APPENDIX. 



Aristotle. 

With the exception of the deer, 
all ruminating animals have horns 
which are partly hollow, and partly- 
solid ; the hollow part grows out 
of the skin, of which it is indeed a 
continuation ; but that part round 
which this hollow is fitted is solid, 
and grows out of the " bone ; as in 
oxen. 

The horns of most animals are, 
in their form, simple, and are hol- 
low, except at their extremity ; the 
horns of the deer alone are in their 
form arborescent; and, in their sub- 
stance, solid throughout. 

The deer alone, from the age of 
two years, sheds its horns annual- 
ly ; the horns of other animals are 
permanent, unless separated by 
violence. Deer at the age of one 
year have merely the rudiments of 
horns, short sprouts, as it were, 
covered with downy skin. At the 
age of two years they develope 
straight horns like wooden pegs ; 
and are hence called at that period 
KwrraCKioLt. 

At three years their horns have 
two branches ; at four years, more ; 
and in this way the number of 
branches increases till the animal 
is six years old ; after which the 
number is not increased. 

The horn at first grows as it 
were in the skin, and has a soft 
villous covering ; and after it has 
attained its full growth the animal 
exposes itself to the sun, in order 
to ripen and dry up this covering. 

TsTpot-jfo^a £'va»ixa xa,» £'jJotgx(x — otfa 
fxsv i(fr, xspmropipa, ojx d;x(p w^ovra sV- 
<nv 01) ^/p b'^Sj <rou£ irporfdioug sVi <f% 
dvw (ficLyovog. s(fn <S' s'via o jx dfApwcWra 
xcu ixe'para, oi'ov xxprikoz. p. 32. 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

The structure of the horns differs 
in different species. In some the 
solid osseous part which projects 
from the frontal bone is covered 
with a hollow case, which grows 
over it from the skin, as in oxen, 
sheep, and goats. 



In the various species of deer the 
osseous projections are covered, 
during their growth, with skin re- 
sembling that of the rest of the 
head. This skin subsequently pe- 
rishes, leaving the osseous horn 
uncovered ; and, after a time, the 
horns themselves are shed ; and 
are succeeded by others which are 
usually larger than the preceding; 
and these again are shed in their 
turn and replaced by others. 

The figure of the horn in deer 
varies according to the age and 
species of the animal. 



Les ruminans — ont Pair d'etre 
presque tous construits sur le 
meme modele, et les chameaux 
seuls presentent quelques petites 
exceptions aux caracteres com- 
muns. Le premier de ces carac- 
teres est de n'avoir d'incisives 
qu'a la machoire inferieure. p. 246. 
Toute le reste de ruminans (ex- 



ARISTOTLE AND CUVIER COMPARED. 



193 



Aristotle. 



Twv 8s rsr pair 68 W svai'jawv xa/ 
woto'xojv to. fxs'v so*r» — 8i<fyi8r) y xai 
avri tojv o'vi/^wv ^Xdf I'^sj, wtf^sp 
tfpofioLrov xai a/f; xa/ sXa(po£ xai (3ovg. 
p. 29. 

Kai <rsV~apa£ s^si dvofxoiaj xo/X/'a£* 
a 8rj xai Xsysra\ ^yjpuxd^fiv. p. 46. 



Tojv s^ovrwv xs'pa£ 8? 6'Xou fjusv 
i'p^s/ aVspSov jxovov g'Xa<po£, ra 5' aXXa 
xorXa fxs^pi Tivos, to <5' gtf^arov crspso'v. 
to jxsv ouv xofXov gx tou 8s pharos tfscpvxs 
fxaXXov. tfsp; os [o]* touto tf£pr/jp|xo'a'Tai 

70 GTSpSOV SX TWV OflTUV, 0/0 V T(X Xg'paTa 

twv /3oojv. p. 30. Twv #S XgpaTWV TOt 
psv "7rXsrtfTa xofXd sVtjv dtfo 7% <7Tpotf- 

<pfl'SW£ TtSpi TO SVTO£ gWS(pUXO£ SX T7jS 

xscpoikrjs oVtouv, gV dxpou 8 , sys\ to cre- 
pt ov, xai saV/v «-7rXa # to, Os toov sXacpwv 
jxo'va (5/' o'Xou orspsd xai 1 tfoXutfj^Sj. p. 
67, 68. 'AiroftaXkei 8s to> xg'para 
/xo'vov tXacpog xar' srog, dp^a^svog owro 
(WoiJs', xa; v tfdX/v <pjg/- «rot 5' aXXa tfu- 
vs^wj s-^siy sdv fj^ r» /3/'a wyjpw^. p. 
30. Oi (xsv ouv gv/audo/ ou puouc'/ xs'- 
paTa, irXriv ojcVsp tfTjjxs/'ou %ap/v dp^vjv 
T/va* touto 5' saV/ /3pa^u xa/ oatfu. 
(pjoutf/ 5s 8isrs7g <7rpcjTov rd xs'paTa su- 
dg'a, xa^dtfsp tfarraXouj' &o xa/ xaXoutf/ 
tots tfarraX/'as auVou£. Tcj #s Tp/Vw 

STSI 5/xpOUV (pUOUtf/, TCJ $S TSTOCp-TOJ Tpa- 

^jTSpov xa/ rouYov tov rpoVov as; sVioV 
5o'aa'/ (xs'^pi g| stojv. wtfo rourou <5s o ( ao/a 
ds/ dvacpueutf/v. p. 258. T* 5s xs'paTa 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

cepte les chameaux, &c.) a, au 
moins dans la sexe male, deux 
cornes, c'est-a-dire, deux preemi- 
nences plus ou moins longues des 
os frontaux. p. 252. 

Les quatre pieds sont termines 
par deux doigts et par deux sabots, 
qui se regardent par une face apla- 
tie, en sorte qu'ils ont l'air d'un sa- 
bot unique, qui aurait ete fendu. 
p. 246. 

Le nom de ruminans indique la 
propriete singuliere de ces ani- 
maux, de macher une seconde fois 
les alimens — propriete qui tient a 
la structure de leurs estomacs. lis 
en ont toujours quatre. p. 247. 

Dans le genre des boeufs, &c. les 
cornes sont revetues d'un etui — 
on donne en particulier le nom de 
come a la substance de cet etui, 
et lui-meme porte celui de come 
creuse. p. 252. Dans le genre des 
cerfs, les preeminences couvertes 
pendant un temps d'une peau ve- 
Jue comme celle du reste de la tete, 
ont a leur base un anneau de tu- 
bercules osseux, qui, en grossis- 
sant, compriment et obliterent les 
vaisseaux nounissiers de cette 
peau. Elle se desseche et est en- 
levee ; la proeminence osseuse mise 
a nu, se separe au bout de quelque 
temps du crane auquel elle tenait ; 
elle tombe, et l'animal demeure 
sans armes. Mais il lui en re- 
pousse bientot de nouvelles, d'or- 
dinaire plus grandes que les prece- 
dentes, et destinees a subir les 
memes revolutions. Ces cornes, 
purement osseuses, et sujettes a, 
des changemens periodiques, por- 
tent le nom de bois. p. 253. La 



* There can be no doubt from the structure of the horns of oxen, 8cc. that the 
relative (o) ought to be retained ; and the to*o?\ov l« rod Sipfjictroe is evidently op- 
posed to the to a-Ttpeov \k tZv oo-t-wv. But the question is quite settled by the fol- 
lowing- passage from p. 67, rZv <Ts Htpdrw, «.. r. \. 

17 



194 



APPENDIX. 



Aristotle. 

(puerai u)J<ffsp sv (fspixari to tfpwTov, xal 
yivovrai §a(f£<x.' 6'tgcv ccu£r)<Wiv, rjkia- 
£Wcu 7 iV sxrfs-^uft xal %r)pcwu(fi to 
xspag. p. 259. 

CETACEOU 

The dolphin and whale and other 
cetaceous animals, which have not 
gills, but a tube for conveying away 
the sea-water received into their 
mouth, are viviparous ; and they 
respire air, for they have lungs: 
and hence, if caught in a net, and 
unable to come to the surface for 
the purpose of breathing, they are 
suffocated. 



The dolphin utters a kind of 
murmur when it is in the air ; for 
it has a voice, inasmuch as it has 
lungs, and an air-tube leading to 
them ; but having no lips, and its 
tongue being not sufficiently move- 
able, it is unable to utter an articu- 
late sound. 

The dolphin has mammee, not 
placed in the anterior part of the 
body, but near the vent. 

The mildness and docility of the 
dolphin are remarkable. 



These fish swim in large flocks, 
and their swiftness is so remarka- 
ble that they have been known to 
spring over the decks of ships. 



The cetaceous animal called mys- 
ticetus has no teeth, but hairs in- 
stead, like hogs' bristles. 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

figure de ce bois varie beaucoup— - 
selon l'age. p. 254. 



ANIMALS. 

Cetaceous animals remain con- 
stantly in the water ; but, as they 
respire by means of lungs, they are 
obliged to come often to the sur- 
face for air. p. 272. The ordinary 
cetacea possess a remarkable appa- 
ratus, from which they are called 
blowers, by means of which they 
discharge through their nostrils a 
large volume of water which they 
take into their mouth with their 
food. p. 275. 

They have no prominent laminae 
in their glottis ; and hence their 
voice is nothing more than a simple 
lowing, p. 276. 



Their mammae are placed near 
the vent. p. 276. 

The general organization of the 
dolphin's brain shows that it pos- 
sesses the docility usually attri- 
buted to it. p. 278. 

The common dolphin, which is 
found in large flocks in every sea, 
and is remarkable for its swiftness 
of motion, so that it occasionally 
darts over the decks of ships, ap- 
pears evidently to be the dolphin 
of the ancients, p. 278. 

The upper jaw of the balaenae is 
furnished with thin transverse la- 
minae closely set, formed of a kind 
of fibrous horn terminating in a 
bristly fringe at the border, p. 
284. 



ARISTOTLE AND CUVIER COMPARED. 



195 



Aristotle. 

AsXcpk 5s xai paXaiva xai ra aXXa 
xri<rv\j otfa fX7) gp^si /3payp£»a dXXd (putf?)- 
T^paj ^woToxoutfiv. 'Ava^vsr 5s itavra 
otfa sp^si (putfyjT^pa, xai 1 dsysrai tov 
dspa* tfXsujxova yap gp^outfiv. p. 167. 
Aio xa/ Xa^/3avo^svo£ 6 5sX<pj£ Tofe 
5jxtuoi£ oMiWvfysraj ra^ewg ^tdc to ^ 
dvaTrvsJv. p. 215. 



'A(pi^tfi 5f xa< v 6 5sX(p;V Tp»y|Xov xa; 
jxi^si, oVav sgsXdr/, ev t£ ob'p< — stfn 
yap toJtw (pwvrV g^£< yap xa/ tfXsJjaova 
xai dp-Tvj p<aVj dXXd ttjv yXwTTav oux 
«sfoXsXu(J(/gV7]v ou5s p(£»Xrj wars ap^pov 
tj tt)s (pwv9)j tfoisrv. p. 106. 

*0 Sskcplg gp^si fJoaoVouV 5uo ? oux dvw 
5' dXXd tfXrjtfj'ov twv dp^pwv. p. 40. 
" T(5v 5s daXatftfi'wv tfXsrtfra Xs'ySTai 
tfyjfxsra tf£p< <roOg SsXcpTvag tfpaoVy)TO£ xaj 
Tjjuosporyjro^. p. 301. 

*H5r) <5' wtfTaj 5sXpi'vwv fjt-sydXwv 
«ys'Xy) afjoa xa< fwxpwv. Asysrai 5s xai 
irepi ra^uT^Toj artifact, tou £wou* ccirav- 
twv yap 5oxs? s/vaj £wwv Tap£itfTov, xa; v 
tgjv svu5pwv xa/ tcjv p^sptfa/wv, xa/ uVs- 
piXXovTeti 5s crXoiWv ^sydXwv jtfrouf. 
p. 302. 

"Etj 5s v xa< 6 fJLuj to x?jto£ o5o'vTa£ 
fjt-sv sv tw tfTo'jxaTJ oux gp^si, rpfyag 5s 
ojuuoj'as us/aig. p. 72. 



Cuvier, torn. I. 

Les cetaces se tiennent constam- 
ment dans les eaux ; mais comme 
ils respirent par des poumons, ils 
sont obliges de revenir souvent a 
la surface pour y prendre de l'air. 
p. 272. Les cetaces ordinaires se 
distinguent par l'appareil singulier 
qui leur a valu le nom commun de 
souffleurs. C'est qu'engloutissant, 
avec leur proie, de grands volumes 
d'eau, il leur fallait une voie pour 
s'en debarrasser; elle s'amasse 
dans un sac place a I'orifice exte- 
rieur de la cavite du nez, d'ou elle 
est chassee avec violence — au tra- 
vers d'une ouverture percee au- 
dessus de la tete. p. 275, 276. 

II n'y a point de lames saillantes 
dans leur glotte, et leur voix doit 
se reduire a de simples mugisse- 
mens. p. 276. 



Leurs mamelles sont pres de 1'a- 
nus. p. 276. 

Toute l'organisation de son cer- 
veau annonce que le dauphin ne 
doit pas etre depourvu de la doci- 
lite que les anciens lui attribuaient. 
p. 278. 

Cet animal, repandu en grandes 
troupes dans toutes les mers, et 
celebre par la velocite de son 
mouvement, qui le fait s'elancer 
quelquefois sur le tillac des navires, 
parait reellement avoir ete le dau- 
phin des anciens. p. 278. 

La machoire superieure — a ses 
deux cotes garnis de lames trans- 
verses minces et serrees, — formees 
d'une espece de corne flbreuse, effi- 
lees a leur bord. p. 284. 



From the preceding comparison it appears that, with respect to those 
points in the history of animals, the knowledge of which was equally ac- 
cessible to both writers, the descriptions of Aristotle are hardly inferior 
in accuracy to those of Cuvier. Nor does this observation hold with 



19G 



APPEIYDIX. 



reference to the more common animals only : it is equally remarkable 
with reference to those which are of comparative rarity ; in support of 
which assertion I would refer, among other instances, to the description 
of the sepia, and of the chameleon, and of the evolutiou of the, egg of the 
bird during incubation. But T have perhaps already extended this com- 
parison too far, and will therefore here conclude. 



THE END. 



THE BRIDGEWATER TREATISES 



ON THE 

POWER, WISDOM, AND GOODNESS OF GOD, AS MANIFESTED 
IN THE CREATION. 

TREATISE III. 

ON ASTRONOMY AND GENERAL PHYSICS. 

BY THE REV. W. WHEWELL. 



ET HjEC DE DEO, DE QUO UT1QUE EX PH^SNOMENIS DISSERERE AD 
FHILOSOPHIAM NATURALEM PERTINET. 

KEWTON, CONCLUSION OF THE PRINCIP1A. 



ASTRONOMY 



AND 



GENERAL PHYSICS, 



CONSIDERED 



WITH REFERENCE TO NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



BY THE 



REV. WILLIAM WHEWELL, M. A 

FELLOW AND TUTOR OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 



A NEW EDITION. 



PHILADELPHIA : 
CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD. 
1836. 



TO THE 



RIGHT HONOURABLE AND RIGHT REVEREND 
CHARLES JAMES, 
LORD BISHOP OP LONDON. 



MY LORD, 

I owe it to you that I was selected for the task attempted in the fol- 
lowing pages, a distinction which I feel to be honourable ; and on this 
account alone I should have a peculiar pleasure in dedicating the work 
to your lordship. I do so with additional gratification on another ac- 
count : the treatise has been written within the walls of the college of 
which your lordship was formerly a resident member, and its merits, if 
it have any, are mainly due to the spirit and habits of the place. The 
society is always pleased and proud to recollect that a person of the 
eminent talents and high "character of your lordship is one of its mem- 
bers ; and I am persuaded that any effort in the cause of letters and 
religion coming from that quarter, will have for you an interest beyond 
what it would otherwise possess. 

The subject proposed to me was limited : my prescribed object is to 
lead the friends of religion to look with confidence and pleasure on the 
progress of the physical sciences, by showing how admirably every ad- 
vance in our knowledge of the universe harmonizes with the belief of a 
most wise and good God. To do this effectually may be, I trust, a 
useful labour. Yet, I feel most deeply, what I would take this occasion 
to express, that this and all that the speculator concerning Natural Theo- 
logy can do, is utterly insufficient for the great ends of religion ; namely, 
for the purpose of reforming men's lives, of purifying and elevating their 
characters, of preparing them for a more exalted state of being. It is 
the need of something fitted to do this, which gives to religion its vast 



Vlll 



DEDICATION. 



and incomparable importance ; and this can, I well know, be achieved 
only by that Revealed Religion of which we are ministers, but on which 
the plan of the present work did not allow me to dwell. 

That Divine Providence may prosper the labours of your lordship, 
and of all who are joined with you in the task of maintaining and pro- 
moting this Religion, is, my lord, the earnest wish and prayer of 

Your very faithful 

and much obliged servant, 

William Whewell. 



Trinity College, Cambridge, 
Feb. 25, 1833. 



NOTICE. 



The series of Treatises, of which the present is one, is published under the 
following circumstances : 

The Right Honourable and Reverend Francis Henry, Earl of Bridge- 
water, died in the month of February, 1829 ; and by his last Will and Testa- 
ment, bearing- date the 25th of February, 1825, he directed certain Trustees 
therein named to invest in the public funds the sum of Eight thousand pounds 
sterling; this sum, with the accruing dividends thereon, to be held at the dis- 
posal of the President, for the time being, of the Royal Society of London, to 
be paid to the person or persons nominated by him. The Testator further di- 
rected, that the person or persons selected by the said President should be ap- 
pointed to write, print, and publish one thousand copies of a work On the Pow- 
er, Wisdom, and Goodness of God, as manifested in the Creation ; illustrating such 
work by all reasonable arguments, as for instance the variety and formation of God's 
creatures in the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms ; the effect of digestion, 
and thereby of conversion ; the construction of the hand of man, and an infinite va- 
riety of other arguments as also by discoveries ancient and modern, in arts, sciences, 
and the whole extent of literature. He desired, moreover, that the profits arising 
from the sale of the works so published should be paid to the authors of the 
works. 

The late President of the Royal Society, Davies Gilbert, Esq. requested the 
assistance of his Grace the Arehbishop of Canterbury and of the Bishop ot 
London, in determining upon the best mode of carrying into effect the inten- 
tions of the Testator. Acting with their advice, and with the concurrence of a 
nobleman immediately connected with the deceased, Mr. Davies Gilbert ap- 
pointed the following eight gentlemen to write separate Treatises on the differ- 
ent branches of the subject, as here stated : 

the rev. Thomas chalmers, d. d. 

PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH. 
ON THE ADAPTATION OF EXTERNAL NATURE TO THE MORAL AND INTELLECTUAL 
CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 

JOHN KIDD, M. D. F. R. S. 

REGIUS PROFESSOR OF MEDICINE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 
ON THE ADAPTATION OF EXTERNAL NATURE TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MAN- 



X 



NOTICE. 



THE REV. WILLIAM WHEWELL, M. A. F. R. S. 

FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 
ON ASTRONOMY AND GENERAL PHYSICS. 



SIR CHARLES BELL, K. H. F. R. S. 

THE HAND : ITS MECHANISM AND VITAL ENDOWMENTS AS EVINCING DESIGN. 



PETER MARK ROGET, M. D. 

FELLOW OF AND SECRETARY TO THE ROYAL SOCIETY. 
ON ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. 

THE REV. WILLIAM BUCKLAND, D. D. F. R. S. 

CANON OF CHRIST CHURCH, AND PROFESSOR OF GEOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 
ON GEOLOGY AND MINERALOGY. 

THE REV. WILLIAM KIRBY, M. A. F. R. S. 

ON THE HISTORY, HABITS, AND INSTINCTS OF ANIMALS. 



WILLIAM PROUT, M. D. F. R. S. 

ON CHEMISTRY, METEOROLOGY, AND THE FUNCTION OF DIGESTION. 

His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, President of the Royal Society, 
having desired that no unnecessary delay should take place in the publication 
of the above-mentioned treatises, they will appear at short intervals, as they 
are ready for publication. 



CONTENTS. 



[Within the last year or two, several works have been published in this 
Country on subjects more or less closely approaching to that here treated. It 
may, therefore, be not superfluous to say that the Author of the following pages 
believes that he has not borrowed any of his views or illustrations from recent 
English writers on Natural Theology.] 

INTRODUCTION. Pag6 

Chap. I. Object of the Present Treatise 13 

II. On Laws of Nature - - - - 15 

III. Mutual Adaptation of Laws of Nature - - 17 

IV. Division of the Subject - - - - 19 
BOOK I. Terrestrial Adaptations - - - - 21 

Chap. I. The Length of the Year - - - - 23 

II. The Length of the Day - ... 29 

III. The Mass of the Earth - - - - 33 

IV. The Magnitude of the Ocean a - - - 37 
V. The Magnitude of the Atmosphere 38 

VI. The Constancy and variety of Climates - - 39 
VII. The variety of Organization corresponding to the Va- 
riety of climate - - - 42 
VIII. The Constituents of Climate 48 
The Laws of Heat with respect to the Earth 49 
IX. The Laws of Heat with respect to Water = - 51 

X. The Laws of Heat with respect to Air 59 

XI. The Laws of Electricity 65 

XII. The Laws of Magnetism - - - - 67 

XIII. The Properties of Light with regard to Vegetation - 68 

XIV. Sound 69 

XV. The Atmosphere 73 
XVI. Light 74 

XVII. The Ether 79 

XVIII. Recapitulation 81 

BOOK II. Cosmical Arrangements - - - - 84 

Chap. I. The Structure of the Solar System - - - 85 

II. The Circular Orbits of the Planets round the Sun - 87 

III. The Stability of the Solar System 89 

IV. The Sun in the Centre - - - - 94 

V. The Satellites - - ' - - - 96 

VI. The Stability of the Ocean - - - - 98 



xii 



CONTENTS. 



Page 



VII. The Nebular Hypothesis - 100 
VIII. The Existence of a Resisting Medium in the Solar- 
System ------ 105 

IX. Mechanical laws - - - - -113 

X. The Law of Gravitation - - - 116 

XI. The Laws of Motion - - - - 123 

XII. Friction 127 

BOOK III. Religious Views. - - . - - 133 

Chap. I. The Creator of the Physical World is the Governor 

of the Moral World - 134 

II. On the Vastness of the Universe - 141 

III. On Man's Place in the Universe - - - 146 

IV. On the impression produced by the Contemplation of 

Laws of Nature; or, on the Conviction that Law 
implies Mind ----- 153 

V. On Inductive Habits; or on the Impression produced 

on Men's Minds by discovering Laws of Nature - 157 

VI. On Deductive Habits ; or, on the Impression produced 

on Men's Minds by tracing the consequences of as- 
certained Laws ----- 1G7 

VII. On Final Causes 176 

VIII. On the Physical Agency of the Deity - - 182 

IX. On the Impression produced by considering the Na- 
ture and Prospects of Science; or, on the Impossi- 
bility of the Progress of our Knowledge ever en- 
abling us to comprehend the Nature of the Deity - 187 



ON" 



ASTRONOMY AND GENERAL PHYSICS. 



INTRODUCTION. 
CHAPTER I. 

OBJECT OF THE PRESENT TREATISE. 

The examination of the material world brings before us a number 
of things and relations of things which suggest to most minds the 
belief of a creating and presiding Intelligence. And this impression, 
which arises w T ith the most vague and superficial consideration of 
the objects by which we are surrounded, is, we conceive, confirmed 
and expanded by a more exact and profound study of external na- 
ture. Many works have* been written at different times with the 
view of showing how our knowledge of the elements and their opera- 
tion, of plants and animals and their construction, may serve to 
nourish and unfold our idea of a Creator and Governor of the world. 
But though this is the case, a new work on the same subject may 
still have its use. Our views of the Creator and Governor of the 
world, as collected from or combined with our views of the world 
itself, undergo modifications, as we are all led by new discoveries, 
new generalizations, to regard nature in a new light. The concep- 
tions concerning the Deity, his mode of effecting his purposes, the 
scheme of his government, which are suggested by one stage of our 
knowledge of natural objects and operations, may become manifestly 
imperfect or incongruous, if adhered to and applied at a later period, 
when our acquaintance with the immediate causes of natural events 
has been greatly extended. On this account it may be interesting, 
after such an advance, to show how the views of the creation, pre- 
servation, and government of the universe, which natural science 
opens to us, harmonize with our belief in a Creator, Governor, and 
Preserver of the world. To do this with respect to certain depart- 

2 



14 



INTRODUCTION. 



ments of Natural Philosophy is the object of the following pages ; 
and the author will deem himself fortunate, if he succeeds in remov- 
ing any of the difficulties and obscurities which prevail in men's 
minds, from the want of a clear mutual understanding between the 
religious and the scientific speculator. It is needless here to remark 
the necessarily imperfect and scanty character of Natural Religion ; 
for most persons will allow that, however imperfect maybe the know- 
ledge of a Supreme Intelligence which we gather from the contem- 
plation of the natural world, it is still of most essential use and value. 
And our purpose on this occasion is, not to show that Natural Theo- 
logy is a perfect and satisfactory scheme, but to bring up our Natural 
Theology to the point of view in which it may be contemplated by 
the aid of our Natural Philosophy. 

Now the peculiar point of view which at present belongs to Natural 
Philosophy, and especially to the departments of it which have been 
most successfully cultivated, is,' that nature, so far as it is an object 
of scientific research, is a collection of facts governed by laws: our 
knowledge of nature is our knowledge of laws ; of laws of opera- 
tion and connexion, of laws of succession and co-existence, among 
the various elements and appearances around us. And it must there- 
fore here be our aim to show how this view of the universe falls in 
with our conception of the Divine Author, by whom we hold the uni- 
verse to be made and governed. 

Nature acts by general laivs ; that is, the occurrences of the world 
in which we find ourselves, result from causes v/hich operate ac- 
cording to fixed and constant rules. The succession of days, and 
seasons, and years, is produced by the motions of the earth ; and 
these again are governed by the attraction of the sun, a force which 
acts with undeviating steadiness and regularity. The changes of 
winds and skies, seemingly so capricious and casual, are produced by 
the operation of the sun's heat upon air and moisture, land and sea; 
and though in this case we cannot trace the particular events to their 
general causes, as we can trace the motions of the sun and moon, no 
philosophical mind will doubt the generality and fixity of the rules 
by which these causes act. The variety of the effects takes place, 
because the circumstances in different cases vary ; and not because 
the action of the material causes leaves anything to chance in the 
result. And again, though the vital movements which go on in the 
Ira me of vegetables and animals depend on agencies still less known, 
and probably still more complex, than those which rule the weather, 
each of the powers on which such movements depend has its pecu- 
liar laws of action, and these are as universal and as invariable as 
the law by which a stone falls to the earth when not supported. 

The world then is governed by general laws ; and in order to col- 
lect from the world itself a judgment concerning the nature and 
character of its government, we must consider the import and ten- 
dency of such laws, so far as they come under our knowledge. If 



ON LAWS OF NATURE. 



15 



there be, in the administration of the universe, intelligence and bene- 
volence, superintendence and foresight, grounds for love and hope, 
such qualities may be expected to appear in the constitution and 
combination of those fundamental regulations by which the course of 
nature is brought about, and made to be what it is. 

If a man were, by some extraordinary event, to find himself in a 
remote and unknown country, so entirely strange to him that he did 
not know whether there existed in it any law or government al all ; he 
might in no long time ascertain whether the inhabitants were con- 
trolled by any superintending authority ; and with a little attention 
he might determine also whether such authority were exercised with 
a prudent care for the happiness and well-being of its subjects, or 
without any regard and fitness to such ends ; whether the country 
were governed by laws at all, and whether the laws were good. 
And according to the laws which he thus found prevailing, he 
would judge of the sagacity, and of the purposes of the legislative 
power. 

By observing the laws of the material universe and their opera- 
tion, we may hope, in a somewhat similar manner, to be able to di- 
rect our judgment concerning the government of the universe : con- 
cerning the mode in which the elements are regulated and controlled, 
their effects combined and balanced. And the general tendency of 
the results thus produced may discover to us something of the cha- 
racter of the power which has legislated for the material world. 

We are not to push too far the analogy thus suggested. There is 
undoubtedly a wide difference between the circumstances of man 
legislating for man, and God legislating for matter. Still we shall, 
it will appear, find abundant reason to admire the wisdom and the 
goodness which have established Laws of Nature, however rigor- 
ously we may scrutinize the import of this expression. 



CHAPTER II. 

ON LAWS OF NATURE. 

When we speak of material nature as being governed by laws, it 
is sufficiently evident that we use the term in a manner somewhat 
metaphorical. The laws to which man's attention is primarily di- 
rected are moral laws ; rules laid down for his actions ; rules for 
the conscious actions of a person ; rules which, as a matter of possi- 
bility, he may obey or may transgress ; the latter event being com- 
bined, not with an impossibility, but with a penalty. But the Laws of 
Nature are something different from this ; they are rules for that 



16 



INTRODUCTION. 



which things are to do and suffer ; and this by no consciousness or 
will of theirs. They are rules describing the mode in which things do 
act ; they are invariably obeyed ; their transgression is not punished, 
it is excluded. The language of a moral law is, man shall not kill ; 
the language of a Law of Nature is, a stone will fall to the earth. 

The two kinds of law direct the actions of persons and of things, 
by the sort of control of which persons and things are respectively 
susceptible; so that the metaphor is very simple; but it is proper for 
us to recollect that it is a metaphor, in order that we may clearly 
apprehend what is implied in speaking of the Laws of Nature. 

In this phrase are included all properties of the portions of the 
material world ; all modes of action and rules of causation, accord- 
ing to which they operate on each other. The whole course of the 
visible universe therefore is but the collective result of such laws ; 
its movements are only the aggregate of their working. All natural 
occurrences, in the skies and on the earth, in the organic and in the 
inorganic world, are determined by the relations of the elements and 
the actions of the forces of which the rules are thus prescribed. 

The relations and rules by which these occurrences are thus de- 
termined necessarily depend on measures of time and space, motion 
and force ; on quantities which are subject to numerical measure- 
ment, and capable of being connected by mathematical properties. 
And thus all things are ordered by number and weight and measure. 
" God," as was said by the ancients, " works by geometry :" the 
legislation of the material universe is necessarily delivered in the 
language of mathematics ; the stars in their courses are regulated 
by the properties of conic sections, and the winds depend on arith- 
metical and geometrical progressions of elasticity and pressure. 

The constitution of the universe, so far as it can be clearly appre- 
hended by our intellect, thus assumes a shape involving an assem- 
blage of mathematical propositions: certain algebraical formulas, 
and the knowledge when and how to apply them, constitute the last 
step of the physical science to which we can attain. The labour 
and the endowments of ages have been employed in bringing such 
science into the condition in which it now exists ; and an exact and 
extensive discipline in mathematics, followed by a practical and 
profound study of the researches of natural philosophers, can alone 
put any one in possession of all the knowledge concerning the course 
of the material world, which is at present open to man. The general 
impression, however, which arises from the view thus obtained of 
the universe, the results which we collect from the most careful 
scrutiny of its administration, may, we trust, be rendered intelligible 
without this technical and laborious study, and to do this is our 
present object. 

It will be our business to show that the laws which really prevail 
in nature are, by their farm, that is, by the nature of the connexion 
which they establish among the quantities and properties which they 



ADAPTATION OF LAWS. 



17 



regulate, remarkably adapted to the office which is assigned them; 
and thus offer evidence of selection, design, and goodness, in the 
power by which they were established. But these characters of the 
legislation of the universe may also be seen, in many instances, in a 
manner somewhat different from the selection of the law. The 
nature of the connexion remaining the same, the quantities which it 
regulates may also in their magnitude bear marks of selection and 
purpose. For the law may be the same while the quantities to 
which it applies are different. The law of the gravity which acts 
to the earth and to Jupiter, is the same ; but the intensity of the force 
at the surfaces of the two planets is different. The law which regu- 
lates the density of the air at any point, with reference to the height 
from the earth's surface, would be the same, if the atmosphere were 
ten times as large, or only one tenth as large as it is ; if the barome- 
ter at the earth's surface stood at three inches only, or if it showed 
a pressure of thirty feet of mercury. 

Now this being understood, the adaptation of a law T to its purpose, 
or to other laws, may appear in two ways : — either in the form of 
the law, or in the amount of the magnitudes which it regulates, 
w 7 hich are sometimes called arbitrary magnitudes. 

If the attraction of the sun upon the planets did not vary inversely 
as the square of the distance, the form of the law of gravitation 
would be changed ; if this attraction were, at the earth's orbit, of a 
different value from its present one, the arbitrary magnitude would 
be changed ; and it will appear, in a subsequent part of this work, 
that either change would, so far as we can trace its consequences, 
be detrimental. The form of the law determines in what manner 
the facts shall take place; the arbitrary magnitude determines how 
fast, how far, how soon; the one gives a model, the other a measure 
of the phenomenon; the one draws the plan, the other gives the 
scale on which it is to be executed ; the one gives the rule, the other 
the rate. If either were wrongly taken, the result would be wrong 
too. 



CHAPTER III. 

MUTUAL ADAPTATION IN THE LAWS OF NATURE. 

To ascertain such laws of nature as we have been describing, is 
the peculiar business of science. It is only with regard to a very 
small portion of the appearances of the universe, that science, in any 
strict application of the term, exists. In very few departments ot 
research have men been able to trace a multitude of known facts to 



18 



INTRODUCTION. 



causes which appear to be the ultimate material causes, or to dis- 
cern the laws which seem to be the most general laws. Yet, in one 
or two instances, they have done this, or something approaching to 
this ; and most especially in the instance of that part of nature, which 
it is the object of this treatise more peculiarly to consider. 

The apparent motions of the sun, moon, and stars have been more 
completely reduced to their causes and laws than any other class of 
phenomena. Astronomy, the science which treats of these, is already 
a wonderful example of the degree of such knowledge which man 
may attain. The forms of its most important laws may be con- 
ceived to be certainly known ; and hundreds of observers in all 
parts of the world are daily employed in determining, with addi- 
tional accuracy, the arbitrary magnitudes which these laws involve. 

The inquiries in which the mutual effects of heat, moisture, air, 
and the like elements are treated of, including, among other subjects, 
all that we know of the causes of the weather (meteorology) is a 
far more imperfect science than astronomy. Yet, with regard to 
these agents, a great number of laws of nature have been disco- 
vered, though, undoubtedly, a far greater number remain still un- 
known. 

So far, therefore, as our knowledge goes, astronomy and meteoro- 
logy are parts of natural philosophy in which we may study the 
order of nature with such views as we have suggested ; in which 
we may hope to make out the adaptations and aims which exist in 
the laws of nature ; and thus to obtain some light on the tendency 
of this part of the legislation of the universe, and on the character 
and disposition of the Legislator. 

The number and variety of the laws which we find established in 
the universe is so great, that it would be idle to endeavour to enu- 
merate them. In their operation they are combined and intermixed 
in incalculable and endless complexity, influencing and modifying 
each other's effects in every direction. If we attempt to compre- 
hend at once the whole of this complex system, we find ourselves 
utterly baffled and overwhelmed by its extent and multiplicity. Yet, 
in so far as we consider the bearing of one part upon another, we 
receive an impression of adaptation, of mutual fitness, of conspiring 
means, of preparation and completion, of purpose and provision. 
This impression is suggested by the contemplation of every part of 
nature ; but the grounds of it, from the very circumstances of the 
case, cannot be conveyed in a few words. It can only be fully 
educed by leading the reader through several views and details, and 
must grow out of the combined influence of these on a sober and 
reflecting frame of mind. However strong and solemn be the con- 
viction which may be derived from a contemplation of nature, con- 
cerning the existence, the power, the wisdom, the goodness of our 
Divine Governor, we cannot expect that this conviction, as resulting 
from the extremely complex spectacle of the material world, should 



DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 



19 



be capable of being irresistibly conveyed by a few steps of reason- 
ing, like the conclusion of a geometrical proposition, or the result of 
an arithmetical calculation. 

We shall, therefore, endeavour to point out cases and circum- 
stances in which the different parts of the universe exhibit this mu- 
tual adaptation, and thus to bring before the mind of the reader the 
evidence of wisdom and providence, which the external world 
affords. When we have illustrated the correspondences which 
exist in every province of nature, between the qualities of brute 
matter and the constitution of living things, between the tendency 
to derangement and the conservative influences by which such a 
tendency is counteracted, between the office of the* minutest speck 
and of the most general laws ; it will, we trust, be difficult or im- 
possible to exclude from our conception of this wonderful system, 
the idea of a harmonizing, a preserving, a contriving, an intending 
Mind; of a Wisdom, Power, and Goodness far exceeding the limits 
of our thoughts. 



CHAPTER IV. 

DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 

In making a survey of the universe, for the purpose of pointing 
out such correspondences and adaptations as we have mentioned, 
we shall suppose the general leading facts of the course of nature 
to be known, and the explanations of their causes now generally 
established among astronomers and natural philosophers to be con- 
ceded. We shall assume therefore that the earth is a solid globe of 
ascertained magnitude, which travels round the sun, in an orbit 
nearly circular, in a period of about three hundred and sixty-five 
days and a quarter, and in the mean time revolves, in an inclined 
position, upon its own axis in about twenty-four hours, thus pro- 
ducing the succession of appearances and effects which constitute 
seasons and climates, day and night ; — that this globe has its sur- 
face furrowed and ridged with various inequalities, the waters of 
the ocean occupying the depressed parts : — that it is surrounded by 
an atmosphere, or spherical covering of air ; and that various other 
physical agents, moisture, electricity, magnetism, light, operate at 
the surface of the earth, according to their peculiar laws. This 
surface is, as we know, clothed with a covering of plants, and in- 
habited by the various tribes of animals, with all their variety of 
sensations, wants, and enjoyments. The relations and connexions 
of the larger portions of the world, the sun, the planets, and the 



20 



INTRODUCTION. 



stars, the comical arrangements of the system, as they are some- 
times called, determine the course of events among these bodies ; 
and the more remarkable features of these arrangements are there- 
fore some of the subjects for our consideration. These cosmical 
arrangements, in their consequences, affect also the physical agen- 
cies which are at work at the surface of the earth, and hence come 
in contact with terrestrial occurrences. They thus influence the 
functions of plants and animals. The circumstances in the cosmi- 
cal system of the universe, and in the organic system of the earth, 
which have thus a bearing on each other, form another of the sub- 
jects of which we shall treat. The former class of considerations 
attends principally to the stability and other apparent perfections of 
the solar systems ; the latter to the well-being of the system of or- 
ganic life by which the earth is occupied. The two portions of the 
subject may be treated as Cosmical Arrangements and Terrestrial 
Adaptations. 

We shall begin with the latter class of adaptations, because in 
treating of these the facts are more familiar and tangible, and the 
reasonings less abstract and technical, than in the other division of 
the subject. Moreover, as in this case men have no difficulty in re- 
cognising as desirable the end which is answered by such adapta- 
tions, and they therefore the more readily consider it as an end. 
The nourishment, the enjoyment, the diffusion of living things, are 
willingly acknowledged to be a suitable object for contrivance ; the 
simplicity, the permanence, of an inert mechanical combination 
might not so readily be allowed to be a manifestly worthy aim of a 
Creating Wisdom. The former branch of our argument may 
therefore be best suited to introduce to us the Deity as the institutor 
of Laws of Nature, though the latter may afterwards give us a 
wider view and a clearer insight into one province of his legislation. 



BOOK I. 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



We proceed in this Book to point out relations which subsist be- 
tween the laws of the inorganic world, that is, the general facts of 
astronomy and meteorology ; and the laws which prevail in the or- 
ganic world, the properties of plants and animals. 

With regard to the first kind of laws, they are in the highest de- 
gree various and unlike each other. The intensity and activity of 
natural influences follow in different cases the most different rules. 
In some instances they are periodical, increasing and diminishing 
alternately, in a perpetual succession of equal intervals of time. 
This is the case with the heat at the earth's surface, which has a 
period of a year ; with the light, which has a period of a day. 
Other qualities are constant, thus the force of gravity at the same 
place is always the same. In some cases, a very simple cause pro- 
duces very complicated effects ; thus the globular form of the earth, 
and the inclination of its axis during its annual motion, give rise to 
all the variety of climates. In other cases a very complex and 
variable system of causes produces effects comparatively steady 
and uniform ; thus solar and terrestrial heat, air, moisture, and pro- 
bably many other apparently conflicting agents, join to produce our 
weather, which never deviates very far from a certain average 
standard. 

Now a general fact, which we shall endeavour to exemplify in 
the following chapters, is this : — That those properties of plants and 
animals which have reference to agencies of a periodical character, 
have also by their nature a periodical mode of working; while 
those properties which refer to agencies of constant intensity, are 
adjusted to this constant intensity : and again, there are peculiarities 
in the nature of organized beings which have reference to a va- 
riety in the conditions of the external world, as, for instance, the 
difference of the organized population of different regions: and 
there are other peculiarities which have a reference to the con- 
stancy of the average of such conditions, and the limited range of 
the deviations from that average ; as for example, that constitution 
by which each plant and animal is fitted to exist and prosper in its 
usual place in the world. 

And not only is there this general agreement between the nature 
of the laws which govern the organic and inorganic world, but also 

3 



22 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



there is a coincidence between the arbitrary magnitudes which such 
laws involve on the one hand and on the other. Plants and animals 
have, in their construction, certain periodical functions, which have, 
a reference to alternations of heat and cold; the length of the 
period which belongs to these functions by their construction, ap- 
pears to be that of the period which belongs to the actual alterna- 
tions of heat and cold, namely, a year. Plants and animals have 
again in their construction certain other periodical functions, which 
have a reference to alternations of light and darkness ; the length of 
the period of such functions appears to coincide with the natural 
day. In like manner the other arbitrary magnitudes which enter 
into the laws of gravity, of the effects of air and moisture, and of 
other causes of permanence, and of change, by which the influences 
of the elements operate, are the same arbitrary magnitudes to 
which the members of the organic world are adapted by the vari- 
ous peculiarities of their construction. 

The illustration of this view will be pursued in the succeeding 
chapters; and when the coincidence here spoken of is distinctly 
brought before the reader, it will, we trust, be found to convey the 
conviction of a wise and benevolent design, which has been exer- 
cised in producing such an agreement between the internal consti- 
tution and the external circumstances of organized beings. We shall 
adduce cases where there is an apparent relation between the course 
of operation of the elements and the course of vital functions ; be- 
tween some fixed measure of time or space, traced in the lifeless 
and in the living world ; where creatures are constructed on a cer- 
tain plan, or a certain scale, and this plan or this scale is exactly the 
single one which is suited to their place on the earth ; where it was 
necessary for the Creator (if we may use such a mode of speaking) 
to take account of the weight of the earth, or the density of the air, 
or the measure of the ocean, and where these quantities are rightly 
taken account of in the arrangements of creation. In such cases we 
conceive that we trace a Creator, who, in producing one part of his 
work, was not forgetful or careless of another part; who did not 
cast his living creatures into the world to prosper or perish as they 
might find it suited to them or not ; but fitted together, with the 
nicest skill, the world and the constitution which he gave to its inha- 
bitants; so fashioning it and them, that light and darkness, sun and 
air, moist and dry, should become their ministers and benefactors, 
the unwearied and unfailing causes of their well-being. 

We have spoken of the mutual adaptation of the organic and the 
inorganic world. If we were to conceive the contrivance of the 
world as taking place in an order of time in the contriving mind, we 
might also have to conceive this adaptation as taking place in one 
of two ways : we might either suppose the laws of inert nature to 
be accommodated to the foreseen wants of living things, or the or- 
ganization of life to be accommodated to the previously established 



LENGTH OF THE YEAR. 



23 



laws of nature. But we are not forced upon any such mode of con- 
ception, or upon any decision between such suppositions : since, for 
the purpose of our argument, the consequence of either view is the 
same. There is an adaptation somewhere or other, on either sup- 
position. There is account taken of one part of the system in fram- 
ing the other: and the mind which took such account can be no 
other than that of the Intelligent Author of the universe. When in- 
deed we come to see the vast number, the variety, the extent, the 
interweaving, the reconciling of such adaptations," we shall readily 
allow, that all things are so moulded upon and locked into each 
other, connected by such subtilty and profundity of design, that we 
may well abandon the idle attempt to trace the * order of thought in 
the mind of the Supreme Ordainer. 



CHAPTER I. 



THE LENGTH OF THE YEAR. 



A year is the most important and obvious of the periods which 
occur in the organic, and especially in the vegetable world. In this 
interval of time the cycle of most of the external influences which 
operate upon plants is completed. There is also in plants a cycle 
of internal functions, corresponding to this succession of external 
causes. The length of either of these periods might have been dif- 
ferent from what it is, according to any grounds of necessity which 
we can perceive. But a certain length is selected in both instances, 
and in both instances the same. The length of the year is so deter- 
mined as to be adapted to the constitution of most vegetables ; or the 
construction of vegetables is so adjusted as to be suited to the length 
which the year really has, and unsuited to a duration longer or 
shorter by any considerable portion. The vegetable clock-work is 
so set as to go for a year. 

The length of the year or interval of recurrence of the seasons is 
determined by the time which the earth employs in performing its 
revolution round the sun : and we can very easily conceive the so- 
lar system so adjusted that the year should be longer or shorter than 
it actually is. We can imagine the earth to revolve round the sun 
at a distance greater or less than that which it at present has, all the 
forces of the system remaining unaltered. If the earth were re- 



24 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



moved towards the centre by about one-eighth of its distance, the 
year would be diminished by about a month ; and in the same man- 
ner it would be increased by a month on increasing the distance by 
one-eighth. We can suppose the earth at a distance of 84 or 108 
millions of miles, just as easily as at its present distance of 96 mil- 
lions : we can suppose the earth with its present stacjp of animals 
and vegetables placed where Mars or where Venus is, and revolv- 
ing in an orbit like one of theirs : on the former supposition our year 
would become twenty-three, on the latter seven of our present 
months. Or we can conceive the present distances of the parts of 
the system to continue what they are, and the size, or the density of 
the central mass, the sun, to be increased or diminished in any pro- 
portion ; and in this way the time of the earth's revolution might 
have been increased or diminished in any degree ; a greater velo- 
city, and consequently a diminished period, being requisite, in order 
to balance an augmented central attraction. In any of these ways 
the length of the earth's natural year might have been different from 
what it now is : in the last way without any necessary alteration, 
so far as we can see, of temperature. 

Now, if any change of this kind were to take place, the working 
of the botanical world would be thrown into utter disorder, the func- 
tions of plants would be entirely deranged, and the whole vegetable 
kingdom involved in instant decay and rapid extinction. 

That this would be the case, may be collected from innumerable 
indications. Most of our fruit trees, for example, require the year 
to be of its present length. If the summer and the autumn were 
much shorter, the fruit could not ripen ; if these seasons were much 
longer, the tree would put forth a fresh suit of blossoms, to be cut 
down by the winter. Or if the year were twice its present length, 
a second crop of fruit would probably not be matured, for want, 
among other things, of an intermediate season of rest and consolida- 
tion, such as the winter is. Our forest trees in like manner appear 
to need all the seasons of our present year for their perfection ; the 
spring, summer, and autumn, for the developement of their leaves 
and consequent formation of their proper juice, and of wood from 
this; and the winter for the hardening and solidifying the substance 
thus formed. 

Most plants, indeed, have some peculiar function adapted to each 
period of the year, that is of the now existing year. The sap as- 
cends with extraordinary copiousness at two seasons, in the spring 
and in the autumn, especially the former. The opening of the leaves 
and the opening of the flowers of the same plants are so constant to 
their times, (their appointed times, as we are naturally led to call 
them,) that such occurrences might be taken as indications of the 
times of the year. It has been proposed in this way to select a se- 
ries of botanical facts which should form a calendar; and this has 
been termed a calendar of Flora. Thus, if we consider the time of 



LENGTH OF THE YEAR. 



25 



putting forth leaves,* the honeysuckle protrudes them in the month 
of January ; the gooseberry, currant, and elder in the end of Febru- 
ary, or beginning of March ; the willow, elm, and lime-tree in April ; 
the oak and ash, which are always the latest among trees, in the 
beginning or towards the middle of May. In the same manner the 
flowering has its regular time : the mezereon and snow-drop push 
forth their flowers in February ; the primrose in the month of March; 
the cowslip in April; the great mass of plants in May and June- 
many in July, August, and September; some not till the month of 
October, as the meadow saffron ; and some not till the approach 
and arrival of winter, as the laurustinus and arbutus. 

The fact which we have here to notice, is the recurrence of these 
stages in the developement of plants, at intervals precisely or very 
nearly of twelve months. Undoubtedly, this result is in part occa- 
sioned by the action of external stimulants upon the plant, especially 
heat, and by the recurrence of the intensity of such agents. Accord- 
ingly, there are slight differences in the times of such occurrences, 
according to the backwardness or forwardness of the season, and 
according as the climate is genial or otherwise. Gardeners use arti- 
fices which will, to a certain extent, accelerate or retard the time of 
developement of a plant. But there are various circumstances which 
show that this recurrence of the same events and equal intervals is not 
entirely owing to external causes, and that it depends also upon some- 
thing in the internal structure of vegetables. Alpine plants do not wait 
for the stimulus of the sun's heat, but exert such a struggle to blos- 
som, that their flowers are seen among the yet unmelted snow. And 
this is still more remarkable in the naturalization of plants from one 
hemisphere to the other. When we transplant our fruit trees to the 
temperate regions south of the equator, they continue for some years 
to flourish at the period which corresponds to our spring. The re- 
verse of this obtains, with certain trees of the southern hemisphere. 
Plants from the Cape of Good Hope, and from Australia, countries 
whose summer is simultaneous with our winter, exhibit their flowers 
in the coldest part of the year, as the heaths. 

This view of the subject agrees with that maintained by the best 
botanical writers. Thus Decandolle observes that after making al- 
lowance for all meteorological causes, which determine the epoch 
of flowering, we must reckon as another cause the peculiar nature 
of each species. The flowering once determined, appears to be sub- 
ject to a law of periodicity and habit. f 

It appears then that the functions of plants have by their nature a 
periodical character; and the length of the period thus belonging to 
vegetables is a result of their organization. Warmth and light, soil 
and moisture, may in some degree modify, and hasten or retard the 

* London, Encyclopaedia of Gardening-, 848. 
j-Dec. Phys. vol. ii. 478. 

3* 



2G 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



stages of this period ; but when the constraint is removed the natural 
period is again resumed. Such stimulants as we have mentioned are 
not the causes of this periodicity. They do not produce the varied 
functions of the plant, and could not occasion their performance at 
regular intervals, except the plant possessed a suitable construction. 
They could not alter the length of the cycle of vegetable functions, 
except within certain very narrow limits. The processes of the rising 
of the sap, of the formation of proper juices, of the unfolding of leaves, 
the opening of flowers, the fecundation of the fruit, the ripening of 
the seed, its proper deposition in order for the reproduction of a new 
plant ; — all these operations require a certain portion of time, and 
could not be compressed into a space less than a year, or at least 
could not be abbreviated in any very great degree. And on the other 
hand, if the w T inter w r ere greatly longer than it now is, many seeds 
would not germinate at the return of spring. Seeds which have 
been kept too long require stimulants to mai'.e them fertile. 

If therefore the duration of the seasons were much to change, the 
processes of vegetable life would be interrupted, deranged, distem- 
pered. What, for instance, would become of our calendar of Flora, 
if the year w 7 ere lengthened or shortened by six months ? Some of 
the dates would never arrive in the one case, and the vegetable 
processes which mark them would be superseded; some seasons 
would be without dates in the other case, and these periods would be 
employed in a way harmful to the plants, and no doubt speedily de- 
structive. We should have not only a year of confusion, but, if it 
were repeated and continued, a year of death. 

But in the existing state of things, the duration of the earth's revo- 
lution round the sun, and the duration of the revolution of the vege- 
table functions of most plants are equal. These two periods are 
adjusted to each other. The stimulants which the elements apply 
come at such intervals and continue for such times, that the plant is 
supported in health and vigour, and enabled to reproduce its kind. 
Just such a portion of time is measured out for the vegetable powers 
to execute their task, as enables them to do so in the best manner. 

Now such an adjustment must surely be accepted as a proof of 
design, exercised in the formation of the world. Why should the 
solar year be so long and no longer t or, this being of such a length, 
why should the vegetable cycle be exactly of the same length ? Can 
this be chance ? And this occurs, it is to be observed, not in one, or 
in a few species of plants, but in thousands. Take a small portion 
only of known species, as the most obviously endowed with this ad- 
justment, and say ten thousand. How should all these organized 
bodies be constructed for the same period of a year. How should 
a these machines be wound up so as to go for the same time \ Even 
allowing that they could bear a vear of a month longer or shorter, 
how do they all come within such limits ? No chance could produce 
such a result. And if not by chance, how otherwise could such a 



LENGTH OF THE YEAR. 



27 



coincidence occur, than by an intentional adjustment of these two 
things to one another 1 by a selection of such an organization in 
plants, as would fit them to the earth on which they were to grow ; 
by an adaptation of construction to conditions; of the scale of con- 
struction to the scale of conditions. 

It cannot be accepted as an explanation of this fact in the economy 
of plants, that it is necessary to their existence ; that no plants could 
possibly have subsisted, and come down to us, except those which 
were thus suited to their place on the earth. This is true ; but this 
does not at all remove the necessity of recurring to design as the 
origin of the construction by which the existence and continuance of 
plants is made possible. A watch could not go, except there were 
the most exact adjustment in the forms and positions of its wheels ; 
yet no one would accept it as an explanation of the origin of such 
forms and positions, that the watch would not go if these were other 
than they are. If the objector were to suppose that plants were 
originally fitted to years of various lengths, and that such only have 
survived to the present time, as had a cycle of a length equal to our 
present year, or one which could be accommodated to it ; we should 
reply, that the assumption is too gratuitous and extravagant to require 
much consideration ; but that, moreover, it does not remove the dif- 
ficulty. How T came the functions of plants to be periodical at all 1 
Here is, in the first instance, an agreement in the form of the laws 
that prevail in the organic and in the inorganic world, which appears 
to us a clear evidence of design in their Author. And the same kind 
of reply might be made to any similar objection to our argument. 
Any supposition that the universe has gradually approximated to that 
state of harmony among the operations of its different parts, of which 
we have one instance in the coincidence now under consideration, 
would make it necessary for the objector to assume a previous state 
of things preparatory to this perfect correspondence. And in this 
preparatory condition we should still be able to trace the rudiments 
of that harmony, for which it was proposed to account : so that even 
the most unbounded licence of hypothesis would not enable the oppo- 
nent to obliterate the traces of an intentional adaptation of one part 
of nature to another. 

Nor w r ould it at all affect the argument, if these periodical oc- 
currences could be traced to some proximate cause: if for instance 
it could be shown, that the budding or flowering of plants is brought 
about at particular intervals, by the nutriment accumulated in their 
vessels during the preceding months. For the question would still 
remain, how their functions were so adjusted, that the accumulation 
of the nutriment necessary for budding and flowering, together w ith 
the operation itself, comes to occupy exactly a year, instead of a 
month only, or ten years. There must be in their structure some 
reference to time: how did such a reference occur? how was it 
determined to the particular time of the earth's revolution round 



28 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



the sun ? This could be no otherwise, as we conceive, than by de- 
sign and appointment. 

We are left therefore with this manifest adjustment before us, 
of two parts of the universe, at first sight so remote ; the dimen- 
sions of the solar system and the powers of vegetable life. These 
two things are so related, that one has been made to -fit the other. 
The relation is as clear as that of a watch to a sundial. If a 
person were to compare the watch with the dial, hour after hour, 
and day after day, it would be impossible for him not to believe 
that the watch had been contrived to accommodate itself to the 
solar day. We have at least ten thousand kinds of vegetable 
watches of the most various forms, which are all accommodated to 
the solar year; and the evidence of contrivance seems to be no 
more capable of being eluded in this case than in the other. 

The same kind of argument might be applied to the animal 
creation. The pairing, nesting, hatching, fledging, and flight of 
birds, for instance, occupy each its peculiar time of the year ; and, 
together with a proper period of rest, fill up the twelve months. 
The transformations of most insects have a similar reference to 
the seasons, their progress and duration. " In every species" (ex- 
cept man), says a writer* on animals, " there is a particular period 
of the year in which the reproductive system exercises its energies. 
And the season of love and the period of gestation are so ar- 
ranged that the young ones are produced at the time wherein the 
conditions of temperature are most suited to the commencement of 
life." It is not our business here to consider the details of such 
provisions, beautiful and striking as they are. But the prevalence 
of the great law of periodicity in the. vital functions of organized 
beings will be allowed to have a claim to be considered in its refer- 
ence to astronomy, when it is seen that their periodical constitution 
derives its use from the periodical nature of the motions of the 
planets round the sun ; and that the duration of such cycles in the 
existence of plants and animals has a reference to the arbitrary 
elements of the solar system : a reference which, we maintain, is 
inexplicable and unintelligible, except by admitting into our con- 
ceptions an Intelligent Author, alike of the organic and inorganic 
universe. 



* Fleming, ZqoI. i. 400. 



LENGTH OF THE DAY. 



29 



CHAPTER II. 

THE LENGTH OP THE DAY. 

We shall now consider another astronomical element, the time 
of the revolution of the earth on its axis ; and we shall find here 
also that the structure of organized bodies is suited to this ele- 
ment ; — that the cosmical and physiological arrangements are 
adapted to each other. 

We can very easily conceive the earth to revolve on her axis 
faster or slower than she does, and thus the days to be longer or 
shorter than they are, without supposing any other change to take 
place. There is no apparent reason why this globe should turn on 
its axis just three hundred and sixty-six times while it describes its 
orbit round the sun. The revolutions of the other planets, so far as 
we know them, do not appear to follow any rule by which they are 
connected with the distance from the sun. Mercury, Venus, and 
Mars have days nearly the length of ours. Jupiter and Saturn re- 
volve in about ten hours each. For anything we can discover, the 
earth might have revolved in this or any other smaller period; or 
we might have had, without mechanical inconvenience, much longer 
days than we have. 

But the terrestrial day, and consequently the length of the cycle of 
light and darkness, being what it is, we find various parts of the 
constitution both of animals and vegetables, which have a periodical 
character in their functions, corresponding to the diurnal succession 
of external conditions ; and we find that the length of the period, 
as it exists in their constitution, coincides with the length of the 
natural day. 

The alternation of processes which takes place in plants by day 
and by night is less obvious, and less obviously essential to their 
well-being, than the annual series of changes. But there are abun- 
dance of facts which serve to show that such an alternation is part 
of the vegetable economy. 

In the same manner in which Linnasus proposed a Calendar of 
Flora, he also proposed a Dial of Flora, or Flower-Clock ; and this 
was to consist, as will readily be supposed, of plants, which mark 
certain hours of the day, by opening and shutting their flowers. 
Thus the day-lily (hemerocattis fulva) opens at five in the morning ; 
the leontodon taraxacum, or common dandelion, at five or six ; the 
hieracium latifolium (hawk-weed,) at seven ; the hieracium pilosella, 
at eight; the* calendula arvensis, or marigold, at nine; the mesem- 
bryanthemum neapolitanum, at ten or eleven: and the closing ol 
these and other flowers in the latter part of the day offers a simi- 
lar system of hour marks. 

Some of these plants are thus expanded in consequence of the 



30 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



stimulating action of the light and heat of the day, as appears by 
their changing their time, when these influences are changed ; 
but others appear to be constant to the same hours, and inde- 
pendent of the impulse of such external circumstances. Other flowers 
by their opening and shutting prognosticate the weather. Plants of 
the latter kind are called by Linnseus, meteoric flowers, as being re- 
gulated by atmospheric causes : those which change their hour of 
opening and shutting with the length of the day, he terms tropical ; 
and the hours which they measure are, he observes, like Turkish 
hours, of varying length at different seasons. But there are other 
plants which he terms equinoctial; their vegetable days, like the 
days of the equator, being always of equal length ; and these 
open, and generally close, at a fixed and positive hour of the day. 
Such plants clearly prove that the periodical character, and the 
period of the motions above described, do not depend altogether on 
external circumstances. 

Some curious experiments on this subject were made by Decan- 
dolle. He kept certain plants in two cellars, one warmed by a stove 
and dark, the other lighted by lamps. On some of the plants the 
artificial light appeared to have no influence, (convolvulus arvensis, 
convolvulus cneorum, silene fruticosa) and they still followed the 
clock hours in their opening and closing. The night-blowing 
plants appeared somewhat disturbed, both by perpetual light and 
perpetual darkness. In either condition they accelerated their going 
so much, that in three days they had gained half a day. and thus ex- 
changed night for day as their time of opening. Other flowers 
went slower in the artificial light (convolvulus purpureus). In like 
manner those plants which fold and unfold their leaves were vari- 
ously affected by this mode of treatment. The oxalis stricta and 
oxalis incarnata kept their habits, without regarding either artificial 
light or heat. The mimosa leucocephala folded and unfolded at the 
usual times, whether in light or in darkness, but the folding up was 
not so complete as in the open air. The mimosa pudica (sensitive 
plant), kept in darkness during the day time, and illuminated during 
the night, had in three days accommodated herself to the artificial 
state, opening in the evening, and closing in the morning ; restored 
to the open air, she recovered her usual habits. 

Tropical plans in general, as remarked by our gardeners, suffer 
from the length of our summer daylight ; and it has been found 
necessary to shade them during a certain part of the day. 

It is clear from these facts, that there is a diurnal period belong- 
ing to the constitution of vegetables ; though the succession of func- 
tions depends in part on the external stimulants, as light and heat, 
their periodical character is a result of the structure of the plant ; 
and this structure is such, that the length of the period, under the 
common influences to which plants are exposed, coincides with the 
astronomical day. The power of accommodation which vegetables 



l 



LENGTH OF THE DAY. 



31 



possess in this respect, is far from being such as either to leave the 
existence of this periodical constitution doubtful, or to entitle us to 
suppose that the day might be considerably lengthened or shortened 
without injury to the vegetable kingdom. 

Here then we have an adaptation between the structure of plants, 
and the periodical order of light and darkness which arises from the 
earth's rotation ; and the arbitrary quantity, the length of the cvcle 
of the physiological and of the astronomical fact, is the same. Can 
this have occurred any otherwise than by an intentional adjust- 
ment 1 

Any supposition that the astronomical cycle has occasioned the 
physiological one, that the structure of plants has been brought to 
be what it is by the action of external causes, or that such plants as 
could not accommodate themselves to the existing day have perish- 
ed, would be not only an arbitrary and baseless assumption, but 
moreover useless for the purposes of explanation which it professes, 
as we have noticed of a similar supposition with respect to the an- 
nual cycle. How came plants to have periodicity at all in those 
functions which have a relation to light and darkness ? This part 
of their constitution was suited to organized things which were to 
flourish on the earth, and it is accordingly bestowed on them; it 
was necessary for this end that the period should be of a certain 
length ; it is of that length and no other. Surely this looks like in- 
tentional provision. 

Animals also have a period in their functions and habits ; as in 
the habits of waking, sleeping, eating, &c. and their well-being ap- 
pears to depend on the coincidence of this period with the length of 
the natural day. We see tha't in the day, as it now is, all animals 
find seasons for taking food and repose, which agree perfectly with 
their health and comfort. Some animals feed during the day, as 
nearly all the ruminating animals and land birds; others feed only 
in the twilight, as bats and owls, and are called crepuscular ; while 
many beasts of prey, aquatic birds, and others, take their food 
during the night. Those animals which are nocturnal feeders are 
diurnal sleepers, while those which are crepuscular, sleep partly in 
the night and partly in the day ; but in all, the complete period of 
these functions is twenty-four hours. Man, in like manner, in all 
nations and ages, takes his principal rest once in twenty-four hours; 
and the regularity of this practice seems most suitable to his health, 
though the duration of the time allotted to repose is extremely dif- 
ferent in different cases. So far as we can judge, this period is of 
a length beneficial to the human frame, independently of the effect 
of external agents. In the voyages recently made into high northern 
latitudes, where the sun did not rise for three months, the crews of 
the ships were made to adhere, with the utmost punctuality, to the 
habit of retiring to rest at nine, and rising a quarter before six ; and 
they enjoyed, under circumstances apparently the most trying, a 



32 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



state of salubrity quite remarkable. This shows, that according to 
the common constitution of such men, the cycle of twenty-four 
hours is very commodious, though not imposed on them by external 
circumstances. 

The hours of food and repose are capable of such wide modifica- 
tions in animals, and above all in man, by the influence of external 
stimulants and internal emotions, that it is not easy to distinguish 
what portion of the tendency to such alternations depends on origi- 
nal constitution. Yet no one can doubt that the inclination to food 
and sleep is periodical, or can maintain, with any plausibility, that 
the period may be lengthened or shortened without limit. We may 
be tolerably certain that a constantly recurring period of forty-eight 
hours would be too long for one day of employment and one period 
of sleep, with our present faculties ; and all, whose bodies and minds 
are tolerably active, will probably agree that, independently of habit, 
a perpetual alternation of eight hours up and four in bed would em- 
ploy the human powers less advantageously and agreeably than an 
alternation of sixteen and eight. A creature which could employ 
the full energies of his body and mind uninterruptedly for nine 
months, and then take a single sleep of three months, would not be 
a man. 

When, therefore, we have subtracted from the daily cycle of the 
employments of men and animals, that which is to be set down to 
the account of habits acquired, and that which is occasioned by ex- 
traneous causes, there still remains a periodical character; and a 
period of a certain length, which coincides with, or at any rate 
easily accommodates itself to, the duration of the earth's revolution. 
The physiological analysis of this part of our constitution is not 
necessary for our purpose. The succession of exertion and repose 
in the muscular system, of excited and dormant sensibility in the 
nervous, appear to be fundamentally connected with the muscular 
and nervous powers, whatever the nature of these may be. The 
necessity of these alternations is one of the measures of the intensity 
of those vital energies ; and it would seem that we cannot, without 
assuming the human powers to be altered, suppose the intervals of 
tranquillity which they require to be much changed. This view 
agrees with the opinion of some of the most eminent physiologists. 
Thus Cabanis* notices the periodical and isochronous character of 
the desire of sleep, as well as of other appetites. He states also that 
sleep is more easy and more salutary, in proportion as we go to rest 
and rise every day at the same hours : and observes that this periodi- 
city seems to have a reference to the motions of the solar system. 

Now how should such a reference be at first established in the 
constitution of man, animals, and plants, and transmitted from one 
generation of them to another? If we suppose a wise and benevo- 

* Rapports du Physique et da Moral de l'Homme, II. 371. 



MASS OF THE EARTH. 33 

lent Creator, by whom all the parts of nature were fitted to their 
uses and to each other, this is what we might expect and can under- 
stand. On any other supposition such a fact appears altogether in- 
credible and inconceivable. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE MASS OF THE EARTH. 

We shall now consider the adaptation which may, as we con- 
ceive, be traced in the amount of some of the quantities which de- 
termine the course of events in the organic world ; and especially 
in the amount of the forces which are in action. The life of vege- 
tables and animals implies a constant motion of their fluid parts, 
and this motion must be produced by forces which urge or draw 
the particles of the fluids. The positions of the parts of vegetables 
are also the result of the flexibility and elasticity of their substance ; 
the voluntary motions of animals are produced by the tension of the 
muscles. But in all those cases, the effect really produced depends 
upon the force of gravity also ; and in order that the motions and 
positions may be such as answer their purpose, the forces which 
produce them must have a due proportion to the force of gravity. 
In human works, if, for instance, we have a fluid to raise, or a 
weight to move, some calculation is requisite, in order to determine 
the power which we must use, relatively to the work which is to be 
done : we have a mechanical problem to solve, in order that we 
may adjust the one to the other. And the same adjustment, the 
same result of a comparison of quantities, manifests itself in the re- 
lation which the forces of the organic world bear to the force of 
gravity. 

The force of gravity might, so far as we can judge, have been 
different from what it now is. It depends upon the mass of the 
earth ; and this mass is one of the elements of the solar system, 
which is not determined by any cosmical necessity of which we 
are aware. The masses of the several planets are very different, 
and do not appear to follow any determinate rule, except that upon 
the whole those nearer to the sun appear to be smaller, and those 
nearer the outskirts of the system to be larger. We cannot see 
anything which would have prevented either the size or the density 
of the earth from being different, to a very great extent, from what 
they are. 

Now, it will be very obvious that if the intensity of gravity were 
to be much increased, or much diminished, if every object were to 

4 



34 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



become twice as heavy or only half as heavy as it now is, all the 
forces, both of involuntary and voluntary motion which produce 
the present orderly and suitable results by being properly propor- 
tioned to the resistance which they experience, would be thrown off 
their balance ; they would produce motions too quick or too slow, 
wrong positions, jerks and stops, instead of steady, well-conducted 
movements. The universe would be like a machine ill regulated ; 
everything would go wrong ; repeated collisions and a rapid disor- 
ganization must be the consequence. We will, however, attempt to 
illustrate one or two of the cases in which this would take place, 
by pointing out forces which act in the organic world, and which 
are adjusted to the force of gravity. 

1. The first instance we shall take, is the force manifested by the 
ascent of the sap in vegetables. It appears, by a multitude of in- 
disputable experiments, (among the rest, those of Hales, Mirbel, and 
Dutrochet,) that all plants imbibe moisture by their roots, and pump 
it up, by some internal force, into every part of their frame, dis- 
tributing it into every leaf. It will easily be conceived that this 
operation must require a very considerable mechanical force ; for 
the fluid must be sustained as if it were a single column reaching to 
the top of the tree. The division into minute parts and distribution 
through small vessels does not at all diminish the total force requisite 
to raise it. If, for instance, the tree be thirty-three feet high, the 
pressure must be fifteen pounds upon every square inch in the sec- 
tion of the vessels of the bottom, in order merely to support the sap. 
And it is not only supported, but propelled upwards with great 
force, so as to supply the constant evaporation of the leaves. The 
pumping power of the tree must, therefore, be very considerable. 

That this power is great, has been confirmed by various curious 
experiments, especially by those of Hales. He measured the force 
with which the stems and branches of trees draw the fluid from be- 
low, and push it upwards. He found, for instance, that a vine in 
the bleeding season could push up its sap in a glass tube to the 
height of twenty-one feet above the stump of an amputated branch. 

The force which produces this effect is part of the economy of 
the vegetable world ; and it is clear that the due operation of the 
force depends upon its being rightly proportioned to the force of 
gravity. The weight of the fluid must be counterbalanced, and an 
excess of force must exist to produce the motion upwards. In the 
common course of vegetable life, the rate of ascent of the sap is 
regulated, on the one hand, by the upward pressure of the vegeta- 
ble power, and on the other, by the amount of the gravity of the 
fluid, along with the other resistances, which are to be overcome. 
If, therefore, we suppose gravity to increase, the rapidity of this 
vegetable circulation will diminish, and the rate at which this func- 
tion proceeds, will not correspond either to the course of the sea- 
sons, or the other physiological processes with which this has to co- 



MASS OF THE EARTH. 



35 



operate. We might easily conceive such an increase of gravity as 
would stop the vital movements of the plant in a very short time. 
In like manner, a diminution of the gravity of the vegetable juices 
would accelerate the rising of the sap, and would, probably, hurry 
and overload the leaves and other organs, so as to interfere with 
their due operation. Some injurious change, at least, would take 
place. 

Here, then, we have the forces of the minutest parts of vegeta- 
bles adjusted to the magnitude of the whole mass of the earth on 
which they exist. There is no apparent connexion between the 
quantity of matter of the earth, and the force of imbibition of the 
roots of a vine, or the force of propulsion of the vessels of its 
branches. Yet, these things have such a proportion as the well- 
being of the vine requires. How is this to be accounted for, but by 
supposing that the circumstances under which the vine was to grow, 
were attended to in devising its structure? 

We have not here pretended to decide whether this force of pro- 
pulsion of vegetables is mechanical or not, because the argument is 
the same for our purpose on either supposition. Some very curious 
experiments have recently been made, (by M. Dutrochet) which are 
supposed to show that the force is mechanical ; that when two dif- 
ferent fluids are separated by a thin membrane, a force which M. 
Dutrochet calls endosmose urges one fluid through the membrane : 
and that the roots of plants are provided with small vesicles which 
act the part of such a membrane. M. Poisson has further at- 
tempted to show that this force of endosmose may be considered as 
a particular modification of capillary action. If these views be 
true, we have here two mechanical forces, capillary action and 
gravity, which are adjusted to each other in the manner precisely 
suited to the welfare of vegetables. 

2. As another instance of adaptation between the force of gravity 
and forces which exist in the vegetable world, we may take the 
positions of flowers. Some flowers grow with the hollow of their 
cup upwards : others " hang the pensive head" and turn the open- 
ing downwards. Now of these " nodding flowers" as Linnaeus calls 
them, he observes that they are such as have their pistil longer than 
the stamens ; and, in consequence of this position, the dust from the 
anthers which are at the ends of the stamens can fall upon the stig- 
ma or extremity of the pistil ; which process is requisite for making 
the flower fertile. He gives as instances the flowers campanula, 
leucoium, gahmthus, fritillaria. Other botanists have remarked that 
the position changes at different periods of the flower's progress. 
The pistil of the Euphorbia (which is a little globe or germen on a 
slender stalk) grows upright at first, and is taller than the stamens : 
at the period suited to its fecundation, the stalk bends under the 
weight of the ball at its extremity, so as to depress the germen be- 



36 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



low the stamens : after this it again becomes erect, the globe being 
now a fruit filled with fertile seeds. 

The positions in all these cases depend upon the length and flexi- 
bility of the stalk which supports the flower, or in the case of the 
Euphorbia, the germen. It is clear that a very slight alteration in 
the force of gravity, or in the stiffness of the stalk, would entirely 
alter the position of the flower cup, and thus make the continuation 
of the species impossible. We have therefore here a little mechani- 
cal contrivance, which would have been frustrated if the proper in- 
tensity of gravity had not been assumed in the reckoning. An 
earth greater or smaller, denser or rarer than the one on which we 
live, would require a change in the structure and strength of the 
footstalks of all the little flowers that hang their heads under our 
hedges. There is something curious in thus considering the whole 
mass of the earth from pole to pole, and from circumference to 
centre, as employed in keeping a snowdrop in the position most 
suited to the promotion of its vegetable health. 

It would be easy to mention many other parts of the economy of 
vegetable life, which depend for their use on their adaptation to the 
force of gravity. Such are the forces and conditions which determine 
the positions of leaves and of branches. Such again those parts of 
the vegetable constitution which have reference to the pressure of the 
atmosphere; for differences in this pressure appear to exercise a 
powerful influence on the functions of plants, and to require differ- 
ences of structure. But we pass over these considerations. The 
slightest attention to the relations of natural objects will show that 
the subject is inexhaustible ; and all that we can or need do is to 
give a few examples, such as may show the nature of the impres- 
sion which the examination of the universe produces. 

3. Another instance of the adjustment of organic structure to 
the force of gravity may be pointed out in the muscular powers of 
animals. If the force of gravity were increased in any considerable 
proportion at the surface of the earth, it is manifest that all the 
swiftness, and strength, and grace of animal motions must disap- 
pear. If, for instance, the earth were as large as Jupiter, gravity 
would be eleven times what it is, the lightness of the fawn, the speed 
of the hare, the spring of the tiger, could no longer exist with the 
existing muscular powers of those animals ; for man to lift himself 
upright, or to crawl from place to place, would be a labour 
slower and more painful than the motions of the sloth. The den- 
sity and pressure of the air too would be increased to an intolerable 
extent, and the operation of respiration, and others, which depend 
upon these mechanical properties, would be rendered laborious, 
ineffectual, and probably impossible. 

If, on the other hand, the force of gravity were much lessened, 
inconveniences of an opposite kind would occur. The air would be 
too thin to breathe ; the weight of our bodies, and of all the sub- 



MAGNITUDE OF THE OCEAN". 



37 



stances surrounding us, would become too slight to resist the 
perpetually occurring causes of derangement and unsteadiness : 
we should feel a want of ballast in our movements. 

It has sometimes been maintained by fanciful theorists that the 
earth is merely a shell, and that the central parts are hollow. 
All the reasons we can collect appear to be in favour of its being 
a solid mass, considerably denser than any known rock. If this 
be so, and if we suppose the interior to be at any time scooped out, 
so as to leave only such a shell, as the above-mentioned speculators 
have asserted, we should not be left in ignorance of the change, 
though the appearance of the surface might remain the same. We 
should discover the want of the usual force of gravity, by the insta- 
bility of all about us. Things would not lie where we placed them, 
but would slide away with the slightest push. We should have a 
difficulty in standing or walking, something like what we have on 
ship-board when the deck is inclined ; and we should stagger 
helplessly through an atmosphere thinner than that which op- 
presses the respiration of the traveller on the tops of the highest 
mountains. 

We see therefore that those dark and unknown central portions 
of the earth, which are placed far beyond the reach of the miner 
and the geologist, and of which man will probably never know 
anything directly, are not to be considered as quite disconnected 
with us, as deposites of useless lumber without effect or purpose. 
We feel their influence on every step we take and on every breath 
we draw ; and the powers we possess, and the comforts we enjoy 
would be unprofitable to us, if they had not been prepared with a 
reference to those as well as to the near and visible portions of the 
earth's mass. 

The arbitrary quantity, therefore, of which we have been treating, 
the intensity of the force of gravity, appears to have been taken 
account of, in establishing the laws of those forces by which the 
processes of vegetable and animal life are carried on. And this 
leads us inevitably, we conceive, to the belief of a supreme con- 
triving mind, by which these laws were thus devised and thus es- 
tablished. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE MAGNITUDE OF THE OCEAN. 

There are several arbitrary quantities which contribute to deter- 
mine the state of things at the earth's surface besides those al- 

4* 



38 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



ready mentioned. Some of these we shall briefly refer to, without 
pursuing the subject into detail. We wish not only to show that 
the properties and processes of vegetable and animal life must 
be adjusted to each of these quantities in particular, but also to 
point out how numerous and complicated the conditions of the ex- 
istence of organized beings are ; and we shall thus be led to think 
less inadequately of the intelligence which has embraced at once, 
and combined without confusion, all these conditions. We appear 
thus to be conducted to the conviction not only of design and inten- 
tion, but of supreme knowledge and wisdom. 

One of the quantities which enters into the constitution of the 
terrestrial system of things is the bulk of the waters of the ocean. 
The mean depth of the sea, according to the calculations of La- 
place, is four or five miles. On this supposition, the addition to the 
sea of one-fourth of the existing waters would drown the whole 
of the globe, except a few chains of mountains. Whether this be 
exact or not, we can easily conceive the quantity of water which lies 
in the cavities of our globe to be greater or less than it at present is. 
With every such addition or subtraction the form and magnitude of 
the dry land would vary, and if this change were considerable, 
many of the present relations of things would be altered. It may 
be sufficient to mention one effect of such a change. The sources 
which water the earth, both clouds, rains, and rivers, are mainly fed 
by the aqueous vapour raised from the sea ; and therefore if the 
sea were much diminished, and the land increased, the mean quan- 
tity of moisture distributed upon the land must be diminished, and 
the character of climates, as to wet and dry, must be materially 
affected. - Similar, but opposite changes would result from the in- 
crease of the surface of the ocean. 

It appears then that the magnitude of the ocean is one of the con- 
ditions to which the structure of all organized beings which are 
dependent upon climate must be adapted. 



CHAPTER V. 

i 

THE MAGNITUDE OF THE ATMOSPHERE. 

The total quantity of air of which our atmosphere is composed 
is another of the arbitrary magnitudes of our terrestrial system; 
and we may apply to this subject considerations similar to those of 
the last section. We can see no reason why the atmosphere might 
not have been larger in comparison to the globe which it surrounds; 
those of Mars and Jupiter appear to be so. But if the quantity of 



CLIMATES. 



39 



air were increased, the structure of organized beings would in many 
ways cease to be adapted to their place. The atmospheric pressure, 
for instance, would be increased, which, as we have ij eady no- 
ticed, would require an alteration in the structure of vegetables. 

Another way in which an increase of the mass of the atmosphere 
would produce inconvenience would be in the force of winds. If the 
current of air in a strong gale were doubled or tripled, as might 
be the case if the atmosphere were augmented, the destructive effects 
would be more than doubled or tripled. With such a change, 
nothing could stand against a storm. In general, houses and trees 
resist the violence of the wind; and except in extreme cases, as for 
instance in occasional hurricanes in the West Indies, a few large 
trees in a forest are unusual trophies of the power of the tempest. 
The breezes wKich we commonly have are harmless messengers 
to bring about the salutary changes of the atmosphere, even & the 
motion which they communicate to vegetables tends to promote 
their growth, and is so advantageous, that it has been proposed 
to imitate it by artificial breezes in the hothouse. But with a stream 
of wind blowing against them, like three, or five, or ten, gales com- 
pressed into the space of one, none of the existing trees could stand; 
and except they could either bend like rushes in a stream, or extend 
their roots far wider than their branches, they must be torn up in 
whole groves. We have thus a manifest adaptation of the present 
usual strength of the materials and of the workmanship of the world 
to the stress of wind and weather which they have to sustain. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE CONSTANCY AND VARIETY OF CLIMATES. 

It is possible to conceive arrangements of our system, according 
to which all parts of the earth might have the same, or nearly the same, 
climate. If, for example, we suppose the earth to be a flat disk, or flat 
ring, like the ring of Saturn, revolving in its own plane as that does, 
each part of both the flat surfaces would have the same exposure to 
the sun, and the same temperature, so far as the sun's effect is con- 
cerned. There is no obvious reason why a planet of such a form 
might not be occupied by animals and vegetables, as well as our pre- 
sent earth ; and on this supposition the climate would be every where 
the same, and the uhole surface might be covered with life, without 
the necessity of there being any difference in the kind of inhabitants 
belonging to different parts. 

Again, it is possible to conceive arrangements according to which 



10 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



no part of our planet should have any steady climate. This may 
probably be the case with a comet. If we suppose such a body, re- 
volving round the sun in a very oblong ellipse, to be of small size and 
of a very high temperature, and therefore to cool rapidly; and if we 
suppose it also to be surrounded by a large atmosphere, composed 
of various gases ; there would, on the surface of such a body, be no 
average climate or seasons for each place. The years, if we give 
this name to the intervals of time occupied by its successive revolu- 
tions, would be entirely unlike one another. The greatest heat of one 
year might be cool compared with the greatest cold of a preceding 
one. The greatest heats and colds might succeed each other at in- 
tervals perpetually unequal. The atmosphere might be perpetually 
changing its composition by the condensation of some of its con- 
stituent gases. In the operations of the elements, all would be in- 
cessant and rapid change, without recurrence or compensation. We 
cannot say that organized beings could not be fitted for such a habi- 
tation ; but if they were, the adaptation must be made by means of 
a constitution quite different from that of almost all organized beings 
known to us. 

The state of things upon the earth, in its present condition, is very 
different from both these suppositions. The climate of the same place, 
notwithstanding perpetual and apparently irregular change, possesses 
a remarkable steadiness. And, though in different places the annual 
succession of appearances in the earth and heavens, is, in some of its 
main characters, the same, the result of these influences in the ave- 
rage climate is very different. 

Now, to this remarkable constitution of the earth as to climate, the 
constitution of the animal and vegetable world is precisely adapted. 
The differences of different climates are provided for by the existence 
of entirely different classes of plants and animals in different coun- 
tries. The constancy of climate at the same place is a necessary 
condition of the prosperity of each species there fixed. 

We shall illustrate, by a few details, these characteristics in the 
constitution of inorganic and of organic nature, with the view of fix- 
ing the reader's attention upon the correspondence of the two. 

1. The succession and alternation, at any given place, of heat and 
cold, rain and sunshine, wind and calm, and other atmospheric 
changes, appears at first sight to be extremely irregular, and not sub- 
ject to any law. It is, however, easy to see, with a little attention, 
that there is a certain degree of constancy in the average weather 
and seasons of each place, though the particular facts of which these 
generalities are made up seem to be out of the reach of fixed laws. 
And when we apply any numerical measure to these particular oc- 
currences, and take the average of the numbers thus observed, we 
generally find a remarkably close correspondence in the numbers 
belonging to the whole, or to analogous portions of successive years. 
This will be found to apply to the measures given by the thermome- 



CLIMATES. 



11 



ter, the barometer, the hygrometer, the raingauge, and similar instru- 
ments. Thus it is found that very hot summers, or very cold winters, 
raise or depress the mean annual temperature very little above or be- 
low the general standard. 

The heat may be expressed by degrees of the thermometer ; the 
temperature of the day is estimated by this measure taken at a cer- 
tain period of the day, which is found by experience to correspond 
with the daily average ; and the mean annual temperature will then 
be the average of all the heights of the thermometer for every day in 
the year. 

The mean annual temperature of London, thus measured, is about 
50 degrees 4-10ths. The frost of the year 1788 was so severe that 
the Thames was passable on the ice; the mean temperature of that 
year was 50 degrees 6-10ths, being within a small fraction of a de- 
gree of the standard. In 1796, when the greatest cold ever observed 
in London occurred, the mean temperature of the year was 50 de- 
grees l-10th, which is likewise within a fraction of a degree of the 
standard. In the severe winter of 1813-14, when the Thames, Tyne, 
and other large rivers in England were completely frozen over," the 
mean temperature of the two years was 49 degrees, being little more 
than a degree below the standard. And in the year 1808, when the 
summer was so hot that the temperature in London was as high as 
93^, degrees, the mean heat of the year was 50J, which is about that 
of the standard. 

The same numerical indications of the constancy of climate at the 
same place might be collected from the records of other instruments 
of the kind above-mentioned. 

We shall, hereafter, consider some of the very complex agencies 
by which this steadiness is produced ; and shall endeavour to point 
out intentional adaptations to this object. But we may, in the mean- 
time, observe how this property of the atmospheric changes is made 
subservient to a further object. 

To this constancy of the climates of each place, the structu 1 of 
plants is adapted ; almost all vegetables require a particular mean 
temperature of the year, or of some season of the year ; a particular 
degree of moisture, and similar conditions. This will be seen by ob- 
serving that the range of most plants as to climate is very limited. 
A vegetable which flourishes where the mean temperature is 55 de- 
grees, would pine and wither when removed to a region where the 
average is 50 degrees. If, therefore, the average at each place were 
to vary as much as this, our plants with their present constitutions 
would suffer, languish, and soon die. 

2. It will be readily understood that the same mode of measure- 
ment by which we learn the constancy of climate at the same place, 
serves to show us the variety which belongs to different places. \\ hile 
the variations of the same region vanish when we take the averages 
even of moderate periods, those of distant countries are fixed and 



42 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



perpetual; and stand out more clear and distinct, the longer is the in- 
terval for which we measure their operation. 

In the way of measuring already described, the mean temperature 
of Petersburg is 39 degrees, of Rome, 60, of Cairo 72. Such obser- 
vations as these, and others of the same kind, have been made at 
various places, collected and recorded ; and in this way the surface 
of the earth can be divided by boundary lines into various strips, ac- 
cording to these physical differences. Thus, the zones which take in 
all the places having the same or nearly the same mean annual tem- 
perature, have been called isothermal zones. These zones run nearly 
parallel to the equator, but not exactly, for, in Europe, they bend to 
the north in going eastward. In the same manner, the lines passing 
through all places which have an equal temperature for the summer 
or the winter half of the year, have been called respectively isotheral 
and isochimal lines. These do not coincide with the isothermal lines, for 
a place may have the same temperature as another, though its sum- 
mer be hotter and its winter colder, as is the case of Pekin compared 
with London. In the same way w 7 e might conceive lines drawn ac- 
cording to the conditions of clouds, rain, wind, and the like circum- 
stances, if we had observations enough to enable us to lay down 
such lines. The course of vegetation depends upon the combined 
influence of all such conditions ; and the lines which bound the spread 
of particular vegetable productions do not, in most cases, coincide 
with any of the separate meteorological boundaries above spoken of. 
Thus, the northern limit of vineyards runs through France, in a direc- 
tion very nearly north-east and south-west, while the line of equal 
temperature is nearly east and west. And the spontaneous growth 
or advantageous cultivation of other plants, is in like manner bounded 
by lines of which the course depends upon very complex causes, but 
of which the position is generally precise and fixed, 



CHAPTER VII. 



THE VARIETY OF ORGANIZATION CORRESPONDING TO THE VARIETY 

OF CLIMATE. 



The organization of plants and animals is in different tribes form- 
ed upon schemes more or less different, but in all cases adjusted in 
a general way to the course and action of the elements. The dif- 



GEOGRAPHY OF PLANTS. 



43 



ferences are connected with the different habits and manners of liv- 
ing which belong to different species; and at any one place the va- 
rious species, both of animals and plants, have a number of relations 
and mutual dependences arising out of these differences. But be- 
sides the differences of this kind, we find in the forms of organic life 
another set of differences, by which the animal and vegetable king- 
dom are fitted for that variety in the climates of the earth, which 
we have been endeavouring to explain. 

The existence of such differences is too obvious to require to be 
dwelt upon. The plants and animals which flourish and thrive in 
countries remote from each other, offer to the eye of the traveller a 
series of pictures, which, even to an ignorant and unreflective spec- 
tator, is full of a peculiar and fascinating interest in consequence of 
the novelty and strangeness of the successive scenes. 

Those who describe the countries between the tropics, speak with 
admiration of the luxuriant profusion and rich variety of the vege- 
table productions of those regions. Vegetable life seems there far 
more vigorous and active, the circumstances under which it goes 
on, far more favourable than in our latitudes. Now if we conceive 
an inhabitant of those regions, knowing, from the circumstances of 
the earth's form and motion, the difference of climates which must 
prevail upon it, to guess, from what he saw about him, the condition 
of other parts of the globe as to vegetable wealth, is it not likely 
that he would suppose that the extratropical climates must be almost 
devoid of plants 'i We know that the ancients, living in the tempe- 
rate zone, came to the conclusion that both the torrid and the frigid 
zones must be uninhabitable. In like manner the equatorial rea- 
soner would probably conceive that vegetation must cease, or gra- 
dually die away, as he should proceed»to places further and further 
removed from the genial influence of the sun. The mean tempera- 
ture of his year being about 80 degrees, he would hardly suppose 
that any plants could subsist through a year, where the mean tem- 
perature was only 50, where the temperature of the summer quarter 
was only 64, and where the mean temperature of a whole quarter 
of the year was a very few degrees removed from that at which 
water becomes solid. He would suppose that scarcely any tree, 
shrub, or flower could exist in such a state of things, and so far as 
the plants of his own country are concerned he would judge rightly. 

But the countries further removed from the equator are not left 
thus unprovided. Instead of being scantily occupied by such of the 
tropical plants as could support a stunted and precarious life in un- 
genial climes, they are abundantly stocked with a multitude of ve- 
getables which appear to be constructed expressly for them, inas- 
much as these species can no more flourish at the equator than the 
equatorial species can in these temperate regions. And such new 
supplies thus adapted to new conditions, recur perpetually as we ad- 
vance towards the apparently frozen and untenantable regions in 



44 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



the neighbourhood of the pole. Every zone has its peculiar vegeta- 
bles ; arid as we miss some, we find others make their appearance, 
as if to replace those which are absent. 

If we look at the indigenous plants of Asia and Europe, we find 
such a succession as we have here spoken of. At the equator we 
find the natives of the Spice Islands, the clove and nutmeg trees, 
pepper and mace. Cinnamon bushes clothe the surface of Ceylon ; 
the odoriferous sandal wood, the ebony tree, the teak tree, the ban- 
yan, grow in the East Indies. In the same latitudes in Arabia the 
Happy we find balm, frankincense and myrrh, the coffee tree, and 
the tamarind. But in these countries, at least in the plains, the trees 
and shrubs which decorate our more northerly climes are wanting. 
And as we go northwards, at every step we change the vegetable 
group, both by addition and subtraction. In the thickets to the west 
of the Caspian Sea we have the apricot, citron, peach, walnut. In 
the same latitude in Spain, Sicily, and Italy, we find the dwarf palm, 
the cypress, the chestnut, the cork tree: the orange and lemon tree 
perfume the air with their blossoms ; the myrtle and pomegranate 
grow wild among the rocks. We cross the Alps, and we find the 
vegetation which belongs to northern Europe, of which England is 
an instance. The oak, the beech, and the elm are natives of Great 
Britain : the elm tree seen in Scotland, and in the north of England, 
is the wych elm. As we travel still further to the north the forests 
again change their character. In the northern provinces of the Rus- 
sian empire are found forests of the various species of firs : the scotch 
and spruce fir, and the larch. In the Orkney Islands no tree is found 
but the hazel, which occurs again on the northern shores of the Bal- 
tic. As we proceed into colder regions we still find species which 
appear to have been made for these situations. The hoary or cold 
elder makes its appearance north of Stockholm : the sycamore and 
mountain ash accompany us to the head of the gulf of Bothnia : and 
as we leave this and traverse the Dophrian range, we pass in suc- 
cession the boundary lines of the spruce fir, the scotch fir, and those 
minute shrubs which botanists distinguish as the dwarf birch and 
dwarf willow. Here, near to or within the arctic circle, we yet 
find wild flowers of great beauty ; the mezereum, the yellow and 
white water lily, and the European globe flower. And when these 
fail us, the reindeer moss still makes the country habitable for ani- 
mals and man. 

We have thus a variety in the laws of vegetable organization re- 
markably adapted to the variety of climates ; and by this adaptation 
the globe is clothed with vegetation and peopled with animals from 
pole to pole, while without such an adaptation vegetable and animal 
life must have been confined almost, or entirely, to some narrow 
zone on the earth's surface. We conceive that we see here the evi- 
dence of a wise and benevolent intention, overcoming the varying 
difficulties, or employing the varying resources of the elements, with 



GEOGRAPHY OF PLANTS. 



45 



an inexhaustible fertility of contrivance, a constant tendency to dif- 
fuse life and well being. 

2. One of the great uses to which the vegetable wealth of the earth 
is applied, is the support of man, whom it supplies with food and 
clothing; and the adaptation of tribes of indigenous vegetables to 
every climate has, we cannot but believe, a reference to the intention 
that the human race should be diffused over the whole globe. But 
this end is not answered by indigenous vegetables alone ; and in the 
variety of vegetables capable of being cultivated with advantage in 
various countries, we conceive that we find evidence of an additTonal 
adaptation of the scheme of organic life to the system of the ele- 
ments. 

The cultivated vegetables, which form the necessaries or luxuries 
of human life, are each confined within limits, narrow, when com- 
pared with the whole surface of the earth ; yet almost every part of 
the earth's surface is capable of being abundantly covered with one 
kind or other of these. When one class fails, another appears in its 
place. Thus corn, wine, and oil, have each its boundaries. Wheat 
extends through the old Continent, from England to Thibet: but it 
stops soon in going northwards, and is not found to succeed in the 
west of Scotland. Nor does it thrive better in the torrid zone than 
in the polar regions : within the tropics, wheat, barley and oats are 
not cultivated, excepting in situations considerably above the level 
of the sea : the inhabitants of those countries have other species of 
grain, or other food. The cultivation of the vine succeeds only in coun- 
tries where the annual temperature is between 50 and 63 degrees. 
In both hemispheres, the profitable culture of this plant ceases within 
30 degrees of the equator, unless in elevated situations, or in islands, 
as Teneriffe. The limits of the cultivation of maize and of olives in 
France are parallel to those which bound the vine and corn in suc- 
cession to the north. In the north of Italy, west of Milan, w T e first 
meet with the cultivation of rice; which extends overall the southern 
parts of Asia, w r herever the land can be at pleasure covered with 
water. In great part of Africa millet is one of the principal kinds 
of grain. 

Cotton is cultivated to latitude 40 in the new world, but extends to 
Astrachan in latitude 46 in the old. The sugar cane, the plantain, 
the mulberry, the betel nut, the indigo tree, the tea tree, repay the 
labours of the cultivator in India and China ; and several of these 
plants have been transferred, with success, to America and the West 
Indies. In equinoctial America a great number of inhabitants find 
abundant nourishment on a narrow space cultivated with plantain, 
cassava yams, and maize. The bread fruit tree begins to be culti- 
vated in the Manillas, and extends through the Pacific ; the sago 
palm in the Moluccas, the cabbage tree in the Pelew islands. 

In this manner the various tribes of men are provided with vege- 
table food. Some however live on their cattle, and thus make the 

5 



46 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS* 



produce of the earth only mediately subservient to their wants. Thus 
the Tatar tribes depend on their flocks and herds for food : the taste 
for the flesh of the horse seems to belong to the Mongols, Fins, and 
other descendants of the ancient Scythians: the locust eaters are 
found now, as formerly, in Africa. 

Many of these differences depend upon custom, soil, and other 
causes with which we do not. here meddle ; but many are connected 
with climate: and the variety of the resources which man thus pos- 
sesses, arises from the variety of constitution belonging to cultivable 
vegetables, through which one is fitted to one range of climate, and 
another to another. We conceive that this variety and succession 
of fitness for cultivation, shows undoubted marks of a most foresee- 
ing and benevolent design in the Creator of man and of the world. 

3. By differences in vegetables of the kind we have above de- 
scribed, the sustentation and gratification of man's physical nature 
is copiously provided for. But there is another circumstance, a re- 
sult of the difference of the native products of different regions, and 
therefore a consequence of that difference of climate on which the 
difference of native products depends,* which appears to be worthy 
our notice. The difference of the productions of different countries 
has a bearing not only upon the physical, but upon the social and 
moral condition of man. 

The intercourse of nations in the way of discovery, colonization, 
commerce; the study of the natural history, manners, institutions of 
foreign countries; lead to most numerous and important results. 
Without dwelling upon this subject, it will probably be allowed that 
such intercourse has a great influence upon the comforts, the pros- 
perity, the arts, the literature, the power, of the nations which thus 
communicate. Now the variety of the productions of different lands 
supplies both the stimulus to this intercourse, and the instruments by 
which it produces its effects. The desire to possess the objects or 
the knowledge which foreign countries alone can supply, urges the 
trader, the traveller, the discoverer to compass land and sea; and the 
progress of the arts and advantages of civilization consists almost 
entirely in the cultivation, the use, the improvement of that which 
has been received from other countries. 

This is the case to a much greater extent than might at first sight 
be supposed. Where man is active as a cultivator, he scarcely ever 
bestows much of his care on those vegetables which the land would 
produce in a state of nature. He does not select some of the plants 
of the soil and improve them by careful culture, but, for the most 
part, he expels the native possessors of the land, and introduces colo- 
nies of strangers. 

Thus, to take the condition of our own part of the globe as an ex- 

• It will be observed that it is not here asserted that the difference of native pro- 
ducts depends on the difference of climate alone. 



GEOGRAPHY OF PLANTS. 



47 



ample; scarcely one of the plants which occupy our fields and gar- 
dens is indigenous to the country. The walnut and the peach come 
to us from Persia ; the apricot from Armenia: from Asia Minor, and 
Syria, we have the cherry tree, the fig, the pear, the pomegranate, 
the olive, the plum, and the mulberry. The vine which is now cul- 
tivated is not a native of Europe ; it is found wild on the shores of 
the Caspian, in Armenia and Caramania. The most useful species 
of plants, the cereal vegetables, are certainly strangers, though their 
birth place seems to be an impenetrable secret. Some have fancied 
that barley is found wild on the banks of the Semara, in Tartary, 
rye in Crete, wheat at Baschkiros, in Asia ; but this is held by the 
best botanists to be very doubtful. The potato, which has been so 
widely diffused over the world in modern times, and has added so 
much to the resources of life in many countries, has been found equally 
difficult to trace back to its wild condition. 

Thus widely are spread the traces of the connexion of the pro- 
gress of civilization with national intercourse. In our own country 
a higher state of the arts of life is marked by a more ready and ex- 
tensive adoption of foreign productions. Our fields are covered with 
herbs from Holland, and roots from Germany ; with Flemish farm- 
ing and Swedish turnips ; our hills with forests of the firs of Norway. 
The chestnut and poplar of the south of Europe adorn our lawns, 
and below them flourish shrubs and flowers from every clime in pro- 
fusion. In the mean time Arabia improves our horses, China our 
pigs, North America our poultry, Spain our sheep, and almost every 
country sends its dog. The products which are ingredients in our 
luxuries, and which we cannot naturalize at home, we raise in our 
colonies ; the cotton, coffee, sugar of the east are thus transplanted 
to the farthest west ; and man lives in the middle of a rich and varied 
abundance which depends on the facility with which plants and ani- 
mals and modes of culture can be transferred into lands far removed 
from those in which nature had placed them. And this plenty and 
variety of material comforts is the companion and the mark of ad- 
vantages and improvements in social life, of progress in art and 
science, of activity of thought, of energy of purpose, and of ascen- 
dency of character. 

The differences in the productions of different countries which lead 
to the habitual intercourse of nations, and through this to the benefits 
which we have thus briefly noticed, do not all depend upon the dif- 
ferences of temperature and climate alone. But these differences 
are among the causes, and are some of the most important causes, 
or conditions, of the variety of products; and thus that arrangement 
of the earth's form and motion from which the different climates of 
different places arises, is connected with the social and moral wel- 
fare and advancement of man. 

We conceive that this connexion, though there must be to our 
apprehension much that is indefinite and uncertain in tracing its de- 



48 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



tails, is yet a point where we may perceive the profound and 
comprehensive relations established by the counsel and foresight of 
a wise and good Creator of the world and of man, by whom the 
progress and elevation of the human species was neither uncontem- 
plated nor uncared for. 

4. We have traced, in the variety of organized beings, an adap- 
tation to the variety of climates, a provision for the sustentation of 
man all over the globe, and an instrument for the promotion of civi- 
lization and many attendant benefits. We have not considered this 
variety as itself a purpose which we can perceive or understand 
without reference to some ulterior end. Many persons, however, 
and especially those who are already in the habit of referring the 
world to its Creator, will probably see something admirable in it- 
self in this vast variety of created things. There is indeed some- 
thing well fitted to produce and confirm a reverential wonder, in 
these apparently inexhaustible stores of new forms of being and 
modes of existence ; the fixity of the laws of each class, its dis- 
tinctness from all others, its relations to many. Structures and 
habits and characters are exhibited, which are connected and dis- 
tinguished according to every conceivable degree of subordination 
and analogy, in their resemblances and in their differences. Every 
new country we explore presents us with new combinations, 
where the possible cases seemed to be exhausted ; and with new 
resemblances and differences, constructed as if to elude what con- 
jecture might have hit upon, by proceeding from the old ones. 
Most of those who have any large portion of nature brought under 
their notice in this point of view, are led to feel that there is, in 
such a creation, a harmony, a beauty, and a dignity, of which the 
impression is irresistible ; which would have been wanting in any 
more uniform and limited system such as we might try to imagine ; 
and which of itself gives to the arrangements by which such a 
variety on the earth's surface is produced, the character of well 
devised means to a worthy end. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE CONSTITUENTS OF CLIMATE. 

We have spoken of the steady average of the climate at each 
place, of the difference of this average at different places, and of 
the adaptation of organized beings to this character in the laws of 
the elements by which they are affected. But this steadiness 
in the general effect of the elements, is the result of an ex- 



LAWS OF HEAT. THE EARTH. 



40 



tremely complex and extensive machinery. Climate, in its wider 
sense, is not one single agent, but is the aggregate result of a great 
number of different agents, governed by different laws, producing 
effects of various kinds. The steadiness of this compound agency 
is not the steadiness of a permanent condition, like that of a body 
at rest; but it is the steadiness of a state of constant change and 
movement, succession and alternation, seeming accident and ir- 
regularity. It is a perpetual repose, combined with a perpetual 
motion ; an invariable average of most variable quantities. Now, 
the manner in which such a state of things is produced, deserves, 
we conceive, a closer consideration. It may be useful to show 
how the particular laws of the action of each of the elements of 
climate are so adjusted that they do not disturb this general con- 
stancy. 

The principal constituents of climate are the following: — the 
temperature of the earth, of the water, of the air : — the distribution 
of the aqueous vapour contained in the atmosphere : — the winds 
and rains by which the equilibrium of the atmosphere is restored 
when it is in any degree disturbed. The effects of light, of electri- 
city, probably of other causes also, are no doubt important in the 
economy of the vegetable world, but these agencies have not been 
reduced by scientific inquirers to such laws as to admit of their 
being treated with the same exactness and certainty which we can 
obtain in the case of those first mentioned. 

We shall proceed to trace some of the peculiarities in the laws 
of the different physical agents which are in action at the earth's 
surface, and the manner in which these peculiarities bear upon the 
general result. 

The Laws of Heat with respect to the Earth. 

One of the main causes which determine the temperature of each 
climate is the effect of the sun's rays on the solid mass of the earth. 
The laws of this operation have been recently made out with con- 
siderable exactness, experimentally by Leslie, theoretically by Four- 
rier, and by other inquirers. The theoretical inquiries have required 
the application of very complex and abstruse mathematical investi- 
gations ; but the general character of the operation may, perhaps, 
be made easily intelligible. 

The earth, like all solid bodies, transmits into its interior the im- 
pressions of heat which it receives at the surface ; and throws oft 
the superfluous heat from its surface into the surrounding space. 
These processes are called conduction and radiation, and have each 
their ascertained mathematical laws. 

By the laws of conduction, the daily impressions of heat which 
the earth receives, follow each other into the interior of the mass, 

5 * 



50 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



like the waves which start from the edge of a canal* ; and like 
them, become more and more faint as they proceed, till they melt 
into the general level of the internal temperature. The heat thus 
transmitted is accumulated in the interior of the earth, as in a reser- 
voir, and flows from one part to another of this reservoir. The 
parts of the earth near the equator are more heated by the sun 
than other parts, and on this account there is a perpetual internal 
conduction of heat from the equatorial to other parts of the sphere. 
And as all parts of the surface throw off heat by radiation, in the 
polar regions, where the surface receives little in return from the sun, 
a constant waste is produced. There is thus from the polar parts 
a perpetual dispersion of heat in the surrounding space, which is sup- 
plied by a perpetual internal flow from the equator towards each 
pole. 

Here, then, is a kind of circulation of heat ; and the quantity and 
rapidity of this circulation, determine the quantity of heat in the 
solid part of the earth, and in each portion of it ; and through this, 
the mean temperature belonging to each point on its surface. 

If the earth conducted heat more rapidly than it does, the ine- 
qualities of temperature would be more quickly balanced, and the 
temperature of the ground (below the reach of annual and diurnal 
variations) would differ less than it does. If the surface radiated, 
more rapidly than it does, the flow of heat from the polar regions 
would increase, and the temperature of the interior of the globe 
would find a lower level ; the differences of temperature in differ- 
ent latitudes would increase, but the mean temperature of the globe 
would diminish. 

There is nothing which, so far as we can perceive, determines 
necessarily, either the conducting or the radiating power of the 
earth to its present value. The measures of such powers, in different 
substances, differ very widely. If the earth were a globe of pure 
iron, it would conduct heat, probably, twenty times as well as it 
does ; if its surface were polished iron, it would only radiate one- 
sixth as much as it does. Changes in the amount of the conduc- 
tion and radiation far less than these, would, probably, subvert the 
whole thermal constitution of the earth, and make it uninhabitable 
by any of its present vegetable, or animal tenants. 

One of the results of the laws of heat, as they exist in the globe, is, 
th ^' °y tneir action, the thermal state tends to a limiting condition, 
which, once reached, remains constant and steady, as it now is. 

* The resemblance consists in this ; that we have a strip of greater temperature 
accompanied by a strip of smaller temperature, these strips arising fuom the diur- 
nal and nocturnal impressions respectively, and being in motion ; as in the waves 
on a canal we have a moving strip of greater elevation accompanied by a strip 
of smaller election We do not here refer to any hypothetical undulations in the 



LAWS OF HEAT. WATER. 



51 



The oscillations or excursions from the mean condition, produced 
by any temporary cause, are rapidly suppressed ; the deviations 
of seasons from their usual standard produce only a small and 
transient effect. The impression of an extremely hot day upon the 
ground melts almost immediately into the average internal heat. 
The effect of a hot summer, in like manner, is soon lost in its pro- 
gress through the globe. If this were otherwise, if the inequalities 
and oscillations of heat went on, through the interior of the earth, 
retaining the same value, or becoming larger and larger, we micrht 
have the extreme heats or colds of one place making their appear- 
ance at another place after a long interval ; like a conflagration 
which creeps along the street and bursts out at a point remote from 
its origin. 

Tt appears, therefore, that both the present differences of climate, 
and the steadiness of the average at each place, depend upon the 
form of the present laws of heat, and on the arbitrary magnitudes 
which determine the rate of conduction and radiation. The laws 
are such as to secure us from increasing and destructive inequalities 
of heat ; the arbitrary magnitudes are elements to which the organic 
world is adjusted. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE LAWS OE HEAT WITH RESPECT TO WATER. 

The manner in which heat is transmitted through fluids is alto- 
gether different from the mode in which it passes through solids; 
and hence the waters of the earth's surface produce peculiar effects 
upon its condition as to temperature. Moreover, water is suscep- 
tible of evaporation in a degree depending upon the increase of heat ; 
and in consequence of this property it has most extensive and im- 
portant functions to discharge in the economy of nature. We will 
consider some of the offices of this fluid. 

1. Heat is communicated through water, not by being conducted 
from one part of the fluid to another, as in solid bodies, but (at least 
principally) by being carried with the parts of the fluid by means of 
an intestine motion. Water expands and becomes lighter by heat, 
and, therefore, if the upper parts be cooled below the subjacent tem- 
perature, this upper portion will become heavier than that below, 
bulk for bulk, and will descend through it, while the lower portion 
rises to take the upper place. In this manner the colder parts de- 
scend, and the warmer parts ascend by contrary currents, and by 
their interchange and mixture, reduce the whole to a temperature 



52 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



at least as low as that of the surface. And this equalization of tem- 
perature by means of such currents, is an operation of a much more 
rapid nature than the slow motion of conduction by which heat 
creeps through a solid body. Hence, alternations of heat and cold, 
as day and night, summer and winter, produce in water, inequalities 
of temperature much smaller than those which occur in a solid body. 
The heat communicated is less, for transparent fluids imbibe heat 
very slowly; and the cold impressed on the surface is soon diffused 
through the mass by internal circulation. 

Hence it follows that the ocean, which covers so large a portion 
of the earth, and affects the temperature of the whole surface by its 
influence, produces the effect of making the alternations of heat and 
cold much less violent than they would be if it were absent. The 
different temperatures of its upper and lower parts produce a current 
which draws the seas, and by means of the seas, the air, towards 
the mean temperature. And this kind of circulation is produced, 
not only between the upper and lower parts, but also between dis- 
tant tracts of the ocean. The great Gulf Stream which rushes 
out of the gulf of Mexico, and runs across the Atlantic to the west- 
ern shores of Europe, carries with it a portion of the tropical heat 
into northern regions: and the returning current which descends 
along the coast of Africa, tends to cool the parts nearer the equator. 
Great as the difference of temperature is in different climates, it 
would be still greater if there were not this equalizing and moderat- 
ing power exerted constantly over the whole surface. Without this 
influence, it is probable that the two polar portions of the earthy 
which are locked in perpetual ice and snow, and almost destitute of 
life, would be much increased. 

We find an illustration of this effect of the ocean on temperature,, 
in the peculiarities of the climates of maritime tracts and islands. 
The climate of such portions of the earth, corrected in some mea- 
sure by the temperature of the neighbouring sea, is more equable 
than that of places in the same latitudes differently situated. Lon- 
don is cooler in summer and warmer in winter than Paris. 

2. Water expands by heat and contracts by cold, as has been al- 
ready said ; and in consequence of this property, the coldest por- 
tions of the fluid generally occupy the lower parts. The continued 
progress of cold produces congelation. If, therefore, the law just 
mentioned had been strictly true, the lower parts of water would 
have been first frozen ; and being once frozen, hardly any heat ap- 
plied at the surface could have melted them, for the warm fluid could 
not have descended through the colder parts. This is so far the 
case, that in a vessel containing ice at the bottom and water at the 
top, Rumford made the upper fluid boil without thawing the con- 
gealed cake below. 

Now, a law of water with respect to heat operating in this man- 
ner, would have been very inconvenient if it had obtained in our 



LAWS OF HEAT. WATER. 



53 



lakes and seas. They would all have had a bed of ice, increasing 
with every occasion, till the whole was frozen. We could have had 
no bodies of water, except such pools on the surfaces of these icy 
reservoirs as the summer sun could thaw, to be again frozen to the 
bottom with the first frosty night. The law of the regular contrac- 
tion of water by cold till it became ice, would, therefore, be destruc- 
tive of all the utility of our seas and lakes. How is this inconveni- 
ence obviated 1 

It is obviated by a modification of the law which takes place 
when the temperature approaches this limit. Water contracts bv 
the increase of cold, till we come near the freezing temperature*; 
but then, by a further increase of cold, it contracts no more, but ex- 
pands till the point at which it becomes ice. It contracts in cooling: 
down to 40 degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer ; in cooling further 
it expands, and when cooled to 32 degrees, it freezes. Hence, the 
greatest density of the fluid is at 40 degrees, and water of this tem- 
perature, or near it, will lie at the bottom with cooler water or with 
ice floating above it. However much the surface be cooled, water 
colder than 40 cannot descend to displace water warmer than itself. 
Hence we can never have ice formed at the bottom of deep water. 
In approaching the freezing point, the coldest water will rise to the 
surface, and the congelation will take place there ; and the ice so 
formed will remain at the surface, exposed to the warmth of the 
sun-beams and the air, and will not survive any long continuance of 
such action. 

Another peculiarity in the laws which regulate the action of cold 
on water is, that in the very act of freezing a further sudden and 
considerable expansion takes place. Many persons will have known 
instances of vessels burst. by the freezing of water in them. The 
consequence of this expansion is, that the specific gravity of ice is 
less than that of water of any temperature ; and it therefore always 
floats in the unfrozen fluid. If this expansion of crystallization did 
not exist, ice would float in water which was below 40 degrees, but 
would sink when the fluid was above that temperature : as the case 
is, it floats under all circumstances. The icy remnants of the ef- 
fects of winter, which the river carries down its stream, are visible 
on its surface till they melt away ; and the icebergs which are de- 
tached from the shores of the polar seas, drift along, exposed to the 
sun and air, as well as to the water in which they are immersed. 

These laws of the effect of temperature on water are truly re- 
markable in their adaptation to the beneficial course of things at the 
earth's surface. Water contracts by cold ; it thus equalizes the tem- 
perature of various times and places ; but if its contraction were 
continued all the way to the freezing point, it would bind a great 
part of the earth in fetters of ice. The contraction then is here re- 
placed by expansion, in a manner which but slightly modifies the 
former effects, while it completely obviates the bad consequences. 



54 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



The further expansion which takes place at the point of freezing, 
still further facilitates the rapid removal of the icy chains, in which 
parts of the earth's surface are at certain seasons bound. 

We do not know how far these laws of expansion are connected 
with and depend on more remote and general properties of this fluid, 
or of all fluids. But we have no reason to believe that, by what- 
ever means they operate, they are not laws selected from among 
other laws which might exist, as in fact for other fluids other laws 
do exist. And we have all the evidence, which the most remarka- 
ble furtherance of important purposes can give us, that they are 
selected, and selected with a beneficial design. 

3. As water becomes ice by cold, it becomes steam by heat. In 
common language, steam is the name given to the vapour of hot 
water ; but in fact a vapour or steam rises from water at all tem- 
peratures, however low, and even from ice. The expansive force 
of this vapour increases rapidly as the heat increases ; so that when 
we reach the heat of boiling water, it operates in a far more strik- 
ing manner than when it is colder ; but in all cases the surface of 
water is covered with an atmosphere of aqueous vapour, the pres- 
sure or tension of which is limited by the temperature of the water. 
To each degree of pressure in steam there is a constituent tempera- 
ture corresponding. If the surface of water is not pressed by va- 
pour with the force thus corresponding to its temperature, an imme- 
diate evaporation will supply the deficiency. We can compare the 
tension of such vapour with that of our common atmosphere ; the 
pressure of the latter is measured by the barometrical column, 
about thirty inches of mercury ; that of watery vapour is equal to 
one inch of mercury at the constituent temperature of 80 degrees, 
and to one-fifth of an inch, at the temperature of 32 degrees. 

Hence, if that part of the atmosphere which consists of common 
air were annihilated, there would still remain an atmosphere of 
aqueous vapour, arising from the waters and moist parts of the 
earth ; and in the existing state of things this vapour rises in the at- 
mosphere of dry air. Its distribution and effects are materially in- 
fluenced by the vehicle in which it is thus carried, as we shall here- 
after notice ; but at present we have to observe the exceeding utility 
of water in this shape. We remark how suitable and indispensable 
to the well-being of the creation it is, that the fluid should possess 
the property of assuming such a form under such circumstances. 

The moisture which floats in the atmosphere is of most essential 
use to vegetable life * " The leaves of living plants appear to act 
upon this vapour in its elastic form, and to absorb it. Some vege- 
tables increase in weight from this cause when suspended in the at- 
mosphere and unconnected with the soil, as the house-leek and the 
aloe. In very intense heats, and when the soil is dry, the life of 



* Loudon, 1219. 



LAWS OF HEAT. WATER. 



55 



plants seems to be preserved by the absorbent power of their leaves." 
It follows from what has already been said, that, with an increasing 
heat of the atmosphere, an increasing quantity of vapour will rise 
into it, if supplied from any quarter. Hence it "appears that aqueous 
vapour is most abundant in the atmosphere when it is most needed 
for the purposes of life ; and that when other sources of moisture 
are cut off, this is most copious. 

4. Clouds are produced by aqueous vapour when it returns to the 
state of water. This process is condensation, the reverse of evapo- 
ration. When vapour exists in the atmosphere, if in any manner 
the temperature becomes lower than the constituent temperature, 
requisite for the maintenance of the vapoury state, some of the 
steam will be condensed and will become water. It is in this man- 
ner that the curl of steam from the spout of a boiling tea-kettle be- 
comes visible, being cooled down as it rushes to the air. The steam 
condenses into a fine watery powder, which is carried about by the 
little aerial currents. Clouds are of the same nature with such 
curls, the condensation being generally produced when air, charged 
with aqueous vapour, is mixed with a colder current, or has its tem- 
perature diminished in any other manner. 

Clouds, while they retain that shape, are of the most essential use 
to vegetable and animal life. They moderate the fervour of the 
sun, in a manner agreeable, to a greater or less degree, in all 
climates, and grateful no less to vegetables than to animals. Du- 
hamel says that plants grow more during a week of cloudy wea- 
ther than a month of dry and hot. It has been observed that vege- 
tables are far more refreshed by being watered in cloudy than in 
clear weather. In the latter case, probably the supply of fluid is 
too rapidly carried off by evaporation. Clouds also moderate the 
alternations of temperature, by checking the radiation from the 
earth. The coldest nights are those which occur under a cloudless 
winter sky. 

The uses of clouds, therefore, in this stage of their history, are 
by no means inconsiderable, and seem to indicate to us that the 
laws of their formation were constructed with a view to the pur- 
poses of organized life. 

5. Clouds produce rain. In the formation of a cloud the pre- 
cipitation of moisture probably forms a fine watery poicder, which 
remains suspended in the air in consequence of the minuteness of 
its particles : but if from any cause the precipitation is collected in 
larger portions, and becomes drops, these descend by their weight 
and produce a shower. 

However rain is formed, it is one of the consequences of the ca- 
pacity of evaporation and condensation wmich belongs to water, 
and its uses are the result of the laws of those processes. Its uses 
to plants are too obvious and too numerous to be described. It is 
evident that on its quantity and distribution depends in a great mea- 
sure the prosperity of the vegetable kingdom : and different climates 



56 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



are fitted for different productions, no less by the relations of dry 
weather and showers, than by those of hot and cold. 

6. Returning back still further in the changes which cold can pro- 
duce on water, we come to snow and ice : snow being apparently 
frozen vapour, aggregated by a confused action of crystalline laws ; 
and ice being water in its fluid state, solidified by the same crystalline 
forces. The impression of these agents on the animal feelings is 
generally unpleasant, and we are in the habit of considering them 
as symptoms of the power of winter to interrupt that state of the 
elements in which they are subservient to life. Yet, even in this 
form, they are not without their uses.* " Snow and ice are bad 
conductors of cold ; and when the ground is covered with snow, or 
the surface of the soil or of water is frozen, the roots or bulbs of 
plants beneath are protected by the congealed water from the in- 
fluence of the atmosphere, the temperature of which, in northern 
winters, is usually very much below the freezing point; and this 
water becomes the first nourishment of the plant in early spring. 
The expansion of water during its congelation, at which time its 
volume increases one-twelfth, and its contraction in bulk during a 
thaw, tend to pulverize the soil, to separate its parts from each other, 
and to make it more permeable to the influence of the air." In 
consequence of the same slowness in the conduction of heat which 
snow thus possesses, the arctic traveller finds his bed of snow of no 
intolerable coldness ; the Esquimaux is sheltered from the incle- 
mency of the season in his snow hut, and travels rapidly and agree- 
ably over the frozen surface of the sea. The uses of those ar- 
rangements, which at first appear productive only of pain and 
inconvenience, are well suited to give confidence and hope to our 
researches for such usefulness in every part of the creation. They 
have thus a peculiar value in adding connexion and universality to 
our perception of beneficial design. 

7. There is a peculiar circumstance still to be noticed in the changes 
from ice to water and from water to steam. These changes take 
place at a particular and invariable degree of heat ; yet they do not 
take place suddenly when we increase the heat, to this degree. This 
is a very curious arrangement. The temperature makes a stand, as 
it were, at the point where thaw, and where boiling take place. It 
is necessary to apply a considerable quantity of heat to produce these 
effects ; all which heat disappears, or becomes latent, as it is called. 
We cannot raise the temperature of a thawing mass of ice till we 
have thawed the whole. We cannot raise the temperature of boiling 
water, or of steam rising from it, till we have converted all the water 
into steam. Any heat that we apply while these changes are going 
on is absorbed in producing the changes. 

The consequences of this property of latent heat are very impor- 



* Loudon, 1214. 



LAWS OF HEAT. WATER. 



57 



tant. It is on this account that the changes now spoken of neces- 
sarily occupy a considerable time. Each part in succession must 
have a proper degree of heat applied to it. If it were otherwise, 
thaw and evaporation must be instantaneous : at the first touch of 
warmth, all the snow which lies on the roofs of our houses would 
descend like a water-spout into the streets : all that which rests on 
the ground would rush like an inundation into the water-courses. 
The hut of the Esquimaux would vanish like a house in a pantomime: 
the icy floor of the river would be gone without giving any warning 
to the skaiter or the traveller : and when, in heating our water, we 
reached the boiling point, the whole fluid would " flash into steam," 
(to use the expression of engineers,) and dissipate itself in the atmos- 
phere, or settle in dew on the neighbouring objects. 

It is obviously necessary for the purposes of human life, that these 
changes should be of a more gradual and manageable kind than such 
as we have now described. Yet this gradual progress of freezing 
and thawing, of evaporation and condensation, is produced, so far as 
we can discover, by a particular contrivance. Like the freezing f 
water from the top, or the floating of ice, the moderation of the rate 
of these changes seems to be the result of a violation of a law: that 
is, the simple rule regarding the effects of change of temperature, 
which at first sight appears to be the law, and which, from its sim- 
plicity, would seem to us the most obvious law for these as well as 
other cases, is modified at certain critical points, so as to produce 
these advantageous effects : — why may we not say in order to pro- 
duce such effects? 

8. Another office of water which it discharges by means of its re- 
lations to heat, is that of supplying our springs. There can be no 
doubt that the old hypotheses which represent springs as drawing 
their supplies from large subterranean reservoirs of water, or from 
the sea by a process of subterraneous filtration, are erroneous and 
untenable. The quantity of evaporation from water and from wet 
ground is found to be amply sufficient to supply the requisite drain. 
Mr. Dalton calculated* that the quantity of rain which falls in En- 
gland is thirty-six inches a year. Of this he reckoned that thirteen 
inches flow off to the sea by the rivers, and that the remaining 
twenty-three inches are raised again from the ground by evapora- 
tion. The thirteen inches of water are of course supplied by eva- 
poration from the sea, and are carried back to the land through the 
atmosphere. Vapour is perpetually rising from the ocean, and is con- 
densed in the hills and high lands, and through their pores and cre- 
vices descends, till it is deflected, collected, and conducted out to the 
day, by some stratum or channel which is watertight. The conden- 
sation which takes place in the higher parts of a country, may easily 
be recognised in the mists and rains which are the frequent occu- 



* Manchester Memoirs, v. 357. 
6 



58 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



pants of such regions. The coldness of the atmosphere and' other 
causes precipitate the moisture in clouds and showers, and in the 
former as well as in the latter shape, it is condensed and absorbed by 
the cold ground. Thus a perpetual and compound circulation of the 
waters is kept up ; a narrower circle between the evaporation and 
precipitation of the land itself, the rivers and streams only occa- 
sionally and partially forming a portion of the circuit ; and a wider 
interchange between the sea and the lands which feed the springs, 
the water ascending perpetually by a thousand currents through the 
air, and descending by the gradually converging branches of the 
rivers, till it is again returned into the great reservoir of the ocean. 

In every country, these two portions of the aqueous circulation 
have their regular, and nearly constant, proportion. In this kingdom 
the relative quantities are, as we have said, 23 and 13. A due dis- 
tribution of these circulating fluids in each country appears to be 
necessary to its organic health ; to the habits of vegetables, and of 
man. We have every reason to believe that it is kept up from year 
to year as steadily as the circulation of the blood in the veins and 
arteries of man. It is maintained by a machinery very different, in- 
deed, from that of the human system, but apparently as well, and, 
therefore, we may say as clearly, as that, adapted to its purposes. 

By this machinery, we have a connexion established between the 
atmospheric changes of remote countries. Rains in England are often 
introduced by a south-east wind. " Vapour brought to us by such a 
wind, must have been generated in countries to the south and east of 
our island. It is therefore, probably, in the extensive valleys water- 
ed by the Meuse, the Moselle, and the Rhine, if not from the more 
distant Elbe, with the Oder and the Weser. that the water rises, in 
the midst of sunshine, which is soon afterwards to form our clouds, 
and pour down our thunder-showers." " Draught and sunshine in 
one part of Europe may be as necessary to the production of a wet 
season in another, as it is on the great scale of the continents of Africa 
and South America ; where the plains, during one half the year, are 
burnt up, to feed the springs of the mountains; which in their turn 
contribute to inundate the fertile valleys and prepare them for a lux- 
uriant vegetation."* The properties of water which regard heat 
make one vast watering-engine of the atmosphere. 



* Howard on the Climate of London, vol. ii. pp. 216, 217. 



LAWS OF HEAT. AIR. 



59 



CHAPTER X. 

THE LAWS OF HEAT WITH RESPECT TO AIR. 

We have seen in the preceding chapter how many and how im- 
portant are the offices discharged by the aqueous part of the atmo- 
sphere. The aqueous part is, however, a very small part only : it may 
vary, perhaps, from less than 1-lOOth to nearly as much as l-20th 
in weight, of the whole aerial ocean. We have to offer some con- 
siderations with regard to the remainder of the mass. 

1. In the first place we may observe that the aerial atmosphere is 
necessary as a vehicle for the aqueous vapour. Salutary as is the 
operation of this last element to the whole organized creation, it is a 
substance which would not have answered its purposes if it had been 
administered pure. It requires to be diluted and associated with dry 
air, to make it serviceable. A little consideration will show this. 

We can suppose the earth with no atmosphere except the vapour 
which arises from its watery parts : and if we suppose also the equa- 
torial parts of the globe to be hot, and the polar parts cold, we may 
easily see what would be the consequence. The waters at the equa- 
tor, and near the equator, w r ould produce steam of greater elasticity, 
rarity, and temperature, than that which occupies the regions further 
polewards; and such steam, as it came in contact with the colder 
vapour of a higher latitude, would be precipitated into the form of 
water. Hence there would be a perpetual current of steam from the 
equatorial parts tow r ards each pole, which would be condensed, would 
fall to the surface, and flow back to the equator in the form of fluid. 
We should have a circulation which might be regarded as a species 
of regulated distillation.* On a globe so constituted, the sky of the 
equatorial zone would be perpetually cloudless ; but in all other lati- 
tudes we should have an uninterrupted shroud of clouds, fogs, rains, 
and, near the poles, a continual fall of snow. This would be balanced 
by a constant flow of the currents of the ocean from each pole to- 
wards the equator. We should have an excessive circulation of mois- 
ture, but no sunshine, and probably only minute changes in the inten- 
sity and appearances of one eternal drizzle or shower. 

It is plain that this state of things would but ill answer the ends 
of vegetable and animal life : so that even if the lungs of animals and 
the leaves of plants were so constructed as to breathe steam instead 
of air, an atmosphere of unmixed steam would deprive those crea- 
tures of most of the other external conditions of their well-being. 

The real state of things which we enjoy, the steam being mixed 
in our breath and in our sky in a moderate quantity, gives rise to re- 

* Daniell. Meteor. Ess. p. 56. 



60 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



suits very different from those which have been described. The 
machinery by which these results are produced is not a little curious. 
It is in fact the machinery of the weather, and therefore the reader 
will not be surprised to find it both complex and apparently uncertain 
in its working. At the same time some of the general principles 
which govern it seem now to be pretty well made out, and they 
offer no small evidence of beneficent arrangement. 

Besides our atmosphere of aqueous vapour, we have another and 
far larger atmosphere of common air ; a permanently elastic fluid, 
that is, one which is not condensed into a liquid form by pressure 
or cold, such as it is exposed to in the order of natural events. 
The pressure of the dry air is about 29^ inches of mercury ; that of 
the watery vapour, perhaps, half an inch. Now if we had the 
earth quite dry, and covered with an atmosphere of dry air, we 
can trace in a great measure what would be the results, supposing 
still the equatorial zone to be hot, and the temperature of the sur- 
face to decrease perpetually as we advance into higher latitudes. 
The air at the equator would be rarefied by the heat, and would 
be perpetually displaced below by the denser portions which belong- 
ed to cooler latitudes. We should have a current of air from the 
equator to the poles in the higher regions of the atmosphere, and at 
the surface a returning current setting towards the equator to fill up 
the void so created. Such aerial currents, combined with the rota- 
tory motion of the earth, would produce oblique winds ; and we 
have in fact instances of winds so produced, in the trade winds, 
which between the tropics blow constantly from the quarters between 
east and north, and are, we know, balanced by opposite currents in 
higher regions. The effect of a heated surface of land would be the 
same as that of the heated zone of the equator, and would attract 
to it a sea breeze during the day time, a phenomenon, as we also 
know, of perpetual occurrence. 

Now a mass of dry air of such a character as this, is by far the 
dominant part of our atmosphere ; and hence carries with it in its 
motions the thinner and smaller eddies of aqueous vapour. The lat- 
ter fluid may be considered as permeating and moving in the inter- 
stices of the former, as a spring of water flows through a sand rock.* 
The lower current of air is, as has been said, directed towards the 
equator, and hence it resists the motion of the steam, the tendency 
of which is in the opposite direction ; and prevents or much retards 
that continual flow of hot vapour into colder regions, by which a 
constant precipitation would take place in the latter situations. 

If, in this state of things, the flow of the current of air, which 
blows from any colder place into a warmer region, be retarded or 
stopped, the aqueous vapours will now be able to make their way 



* Daniell. p. 129. 



LAWS OF HEAT. AIR. 



61 



to the colder point, where they will be precipitated in clouds or 
showers. 

Thus, in the lower part of the atmosphere, there are tendencies to 
a current of air in one direction, and a current of vapour in the op- 
posite; and these tendencies exist in the average weather of places 
situated at a moderate distance from the equator. The air tends 
from the colder to the warmer parts, the vapour from the warmer 
to the colder. 

The various distribution of land and sea, and many other causes, 
make these currents far from simple. But in general the air cur- 
rent predominates, and keeps the skies clear and the moisture dis- 
solved. Occasional and irregular occurrences disturb this predomi- 
nance ; the moisture is then precipitated, the skies are clouded, and 
the clouds may descend in copious rains. 

These alternations of fair weather and showers appear to be much 
more favourable to vegetable and animal life than any uniform 
course of weather could have been. To produce this variety, we 
have two antagonist forces, by the struggle of which such changes 
occur. Steam and air, two transparent and elastic fluids, expansi- 
ble by heat, are in many respects and properties very like each 
other. Yet, the same heat similarly applied to the globe, produces 
at the surface currents of these fluids, tending in opposite directions. 
And these currents mix and balance, conspire and interfere, so that 
our trees and fields have alternately water and sunshine ; our fruits 
and grain are successively developed and matured. Why should 
such laws of heat and elastic fluids so obtain, and be so combined ? 
Is it not in order that they may be fit for such offices ? There is here 
an arrangement, which no chance could have produced. The de- 
tails of this apparatus may be beyond our power of tracing ; its 
springs may be out of our sight. Such circumstances do not make 
it less a curious and beautiful contrivance: they need not prevent 
our recognising the skill and benevolence which we can discover. 

2. But we have not yet done with the machinery of the weather. 
In ascending from the earth's surface through the atmosphere, we 
find a remarkable difference in the heat and in the pressure of the 
air. It becomes much colder, and much lighter; men's feelings tell 
them this ; and the thermometer and barometer confirm these indi- 
cations. And here again we find something to remark. 

In both the simple atmospheres of which we have spoken, the one 
of air and the one of steam, the property which we have mentioned 
must exist. In each of them, both the temperature and the tension 
would diminish in ascending. But they would diminish at very dif- 
ferent rates. The temperature, for instance, would decrease much 
more rapidly for the same height in dry air than in steam. II we 
begin with a temperature of 80 degrees at the surface, on ascending 
5,000 feet the steam is still degrees, the air is only 64] degr ies i 
at 10,000 feet, the steam is 73 degrees, the air 48i degrees: at 

6* 



62 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



15,000 feet, steam is at 70 degrees, air has fallen below the freezing 
point to 31 \ degrees. Hence these two atmospheres cannot exist 
together without modifying one another : one must heat or cool the 
other, so that the coincident parts may be of the same temperature. 
This accordingly does take place, and this effect influences very 
greatly the constitution of the atmosphere. For the most part, the 
steam is compelled to accommodate itself to the temperature of the 
air, the latter being of much the greater bulk. But if the upper parts 
of the aqueous vapour be cooled down to the temperature of the air, 
they will not by any means exert on the lower parts of the same va- 
pour so great a pressure as the gaseous form of these could bear. 
Hence, there will be a deficiency of moisture in the lower part of 
the atmosphere, and if water exist there, it will rise by evaporation, 
the surface feeling an insufficient tension ; and there will thus be a 
fresh supply of vapour upwards. As, however, the upper regions 
already contain as much as their temperature will support in the 
state of gas, a precipitation will now take place, and the fluid thus 
formed will descend till it arrives in a lower region, where the ten- 
sion and temperature are again adapted to its evaporation. 

Thus, we can have no equilibrium in such an atmosphere, but a 
perpetual circulation of vapour between its upper and lower parts. 
The currents of air which move about in different directions, at 
different altitudes, will be differently charged with moisture, and as 
they touch and mingle, lines of cloud are formed, which grow and 
join, and are spread out in floors, or rolled together in piles. These, 
again, by an additional accession of humidity, are formed into 
drops, and descend in showers into the lower regions, and if not 
evaporated in their fall, reach the surface of the earth. 

The varying occurrences thus produced, tend to multiply and ex- 
tend their own variety. The ascending streams of vapour carry 
with them that latent heat belonging to their gaseous state, which, 
when they are condensed, they give out as sensible heat. They 
thus raise the temperature of the upper regions of air, and occasion 
changes in the pressure and motion of its currents. The clouds, 
again, by shading the surface of the earth from the sun, diminish 
the evaporation by which their own substance is supplied, and the 
heating effects by which currents are caused. Even the mere me- 
chanical effects of the currents of fluid on the distribution of its 
own pressure, and the dynamical conditions of its motion, are in a 
high degree abstruse in their principles and complex in their results. 
It need not be wondered, therefore, if the study of this subject is 
very difficult and entangled, and our knowledge, after all, very im- 
perfect. 

In the middle of all this apparent confusion, however, we can see 
much that we can understand. And, among other things, we may 
notice some of the consequences of the difference of the laws of 
temperature followed by steam and by air in going upwards. One 



LAWS OF HEAT. AIR. 



03 



important result is that the atmosphere is much drier, near the sur- 
face, than it would have been if the laws of density and tempera- 
ture had been the same for both gases. If this had been so, the air 
would always have been saturated with vapour. It would have 
contained as much as the existing temperature could support, and 
the slightest cooling of any object would have covered it with a 
watery film like dew. As it is, the air contains much less than its 
full quantity of vapour: we may often cool an object 10, 20, or 30 
degrees without obtaining a deposition of water upon it, or reach- 
ing the deiv-point, as it is called. To have had such a dripping 
state of the atmosphere as the former arrangement would have pro- 
duced, would have been inconvenient, and so far as we can judge, 
unsuited to vegetables as well as animals. No evaporation from the 
surface of either could have taken place under such conditions. 

The sizes and forms of clouds appear to depend on the same cir- 
cumstance, of the air not being saturated with moisture. And it is 
seemingly much better that clouds should be comparatively small 
and well defined, as they are, than that they should fill vast depths 
of the atmosphere with a thin mist, which would have been the 
consequence of the imaginary condition of things just mentioned. 

Here then we have another remarkable exhibition of two laws, 
in two nearly similar gaseous fluids, producing effects alike in kind, 
but different in degree, and by the play of their difference giving 
rise to a new set of results, peculiar in their nature and beneficial 
in their tendency. The form of the laws of air and of steam with 
regard to heat might, so far as we can see, have been more similar, 
or more dissimilar, than it now is : the rate of each law might have 
had a different amount from its present one, so as quite to alter the 
relation of the two. By the laws having such forms and such rates 
as they have, effects are produced, some of which we can distinctly 
perceive to be beneficial. Perhaps most persons will feel a strong 
persuasion, that if we understood the operation of these laws more 
distinctly, we should see still more clearly the beneficial tendency of 
these effects, and should probably discover others, at present con- 
cealed in the apparent perplexity of the subject. 

3. From what has been said, we may see, in a general way, both 
the causes and the effects of winds. They arise from any distur- 
bance by temperature, motion, pressure, &c. of the equilibrium of 
the atmosphere, and are the efforts of nature to restore the balance. 
Their office in the economy of nature is to carry heat and mois- 
ture from one tract to another, and they are the great agents in the 
distribution of temperature and the changes of weather. Other 
purposes might easily be ascribed to them in the business of the 
vegetable and animal kingdoms, and in the arts of human life, of 
which we shall not here treat. That character in which we now 
consider them, that of the machinery of atmospheric changes, and 



64 TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 

thus, immediately or remotely, the instruments of atmospheric in- 
fluences, cannot well be refused them by any person. 

4. There is still one reflection which ought not to be omitted. 
All the changes of the weather, even the most violent tempests and 
torrents of rain, may be considered as oscillations about the mean 
or average condition belonging to each place. All these oscillations 
are limited and transient ; the storm spends its fury, the inundation 
passes off, the sky clears, the calmer course of nature succeeds. 
In the forces which produce this derangement, there is a provision 
for making it short and moderate. The oscillation stops of itself, 
like the rolling of a ship, when no longer impelled by the wind. 
Now, why should this be so ? Why should the oscillations, pro- 
duced by the conflict of so many laws, seemingly quite unconnected 
with each other, be of this converging and subsiding character'? 
Would it be so under all arrangements? Is it a matter of me- 
chanical necessity that disturbance must end in the restoration of 
the medium condition ? By no means. There may be an utter sub- 
version of the equilibrium. The ship may roll too far, and may 
capsize. The oscillations may go on, becoming larger and larger., 
till all trace of the orginal condition is lost ; till new T forces of in- 
equality and disturbance are brought into play ; and disorder and 
irregularity may succeed, without apparent limit or check in its 
own nature, like the spread of a conflagration in a city. This is a 
possibility in any combination of mechanical forces ; why does it 
not happen in the one now before us ? By what good fortune are 
the powers of heat, of water, of steam, of air, the effects of the 
earth's annual and diurnal motions, and probably other causes, so 
adjusted, that through all their struggles the elemental world goes 
on, upon the whole, so quietly and steadily ? Why is the whole 
fabric of the weather never utterly deranged, its balance lost irre- 
coverably ? Why is there not an eternal conflict, such as the poets 
imagine to take place in their chaos? 

" For Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry, four champions fierce, 
Strive here for mastery, and to battle bring- 
Their embryon atoms : — 

to whom these most adhere, 
He rules a moment ; Chaos umpire sits, 
And by decison more embroils the fray."* 

A state of things something like that which Milton here seems to 
have imagined, is, so far as we know, not mechanically impossible. 
It might have continued to obtain, if Hot and Cold, and Moist and 
Dry had not been compelled to " run into their places." It will be 
hereafter seen, that in the comparatively simple problem of the 
solar system, a number of very peculiar adjustments were requisite, 



* Par. Lost, b. II. 



ELECTRICITY. 



65 



in order that the system might retain a permanent form, in order 
that its motions might have their cycles, its perturbations their 
limits and period. The problem of the continuation of such laws 
and materials as enter into the constitution of the atmosphere, is one 
manifestly of much greater complexity, and indeed to us probably 
of insurmountable difficulty as a mechanical problem. But all that 
investigation and analogy teach us, tends to show that it will resem- 
ble the other problem in the nature of its result ; and that certain 
relations of its data, and of the laws of its elements, are necessary 
requisites, for securing the stability of its mean condition, and for 
giving a small and periodical character to its deviations from such 
a condition. 

It would then be probable, from this reflexion alone, that in deter- 
mining the quantity and the law and intensity of the forces, of earth, 
water, air, and heat, the same regard has been shown to the perma- 
nency and stability of the terrestrial system, which may be traced 
in the adjustment of the masses, distances, positions, and motions of 
the bodies of the celestial machine. 

This permanency appears to be, of itself, a suitable object of 
contrivance. The purpose for which the world was made could 
be answered only by its being preserved. But it has appeared, from 
the preceding part of this and the former chapter, that this perma- 
nence is a permanence of a state of things adapted by the most re- 
markable and multiplied combinations to the well-being of man, of 
animals, of vegetables. The adjustments and conditions therefore, 
beyond the reach of our investigation, as they are, by which its 
permanence is secured, must be conceived as fitted to add, in each 
of the instances above adduced, to the admiration which the several 
manifestations of Intelligent Beneficence are calculated to excite. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE LAWS OF ELECTRICITY. 

Electricity undoubtedly exists in the atmosphere in most states 
of the air ; but we know very imperfectly the laws of this agent, 
and are still more ignorant of its atmospheric operation. The 
present state of science does not therefore enable us to perceive 
those adaptations of its laws to its uses, which we can discover in 
those cases where the laws and the uses are both of them more 
apparent. 

We can, however, easily make out that electrical agency plays a 
very considerable part among the clouds, in their usual conditions 



66 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



and changes. This may be easily shown by Franklin's experiment 
of the electrical kite. The clouds are sometimes positively, sometimes 
negatively, charged, and the rain which descends from them offers 
also indications of one or other kind of electricity. The changes of 
wind and alterations of the form of the clouds are generally accom- 
panied with changes in these electrical indications. Every one 
knows that a thunder-cloud is strongly charged with the electric 
fluid, (if it be a fluid,) and that the stroke of the lightning is an 
electrical discharge. We may add that it appears, by recent ex- 
periments, that a transfer of electricity between plants and the 
atmosphere is perpetually going on during the process of vegetation. 

We cannot trace very exactly the precise circumstances, in the 
occurrences of the atmospheric regions, which depend on the in- 
fluence of the laws of electricity : but we are tolerably certain, 
from what has been already noticed, that if these laws did not exist, 
or were very different from what they now are, the action of the 
clouds and winds, and the course of vegetation, would also be other 
than it now is. 

It is therefore at any rate very probable that electricity has 
its appointed and important purposes in the economy of the at- 
mosphere. And this being so, we may see a use in the thunder- 
storm and the stroke of the lightning. These violent events are, 
with regard to the electricity of the atmosphere, what winds are 
with regard to heat and moisture. They restore the equilibrium 
where it has been dissolved, and carry the fluid from places where it 
is superfluous, to others where it is deficient. 

We are so constituted, however, that these crises impress almost 
every one with a feeling of awe. The deep lowering gloom of 
the thunder-cloud, the overwhelming burst of the explosion, the flash 
from which the steadiest eye shrinks, and the irresistible arrow of 
the lightning which no earthly substance can withstand, speak of 
something fearful, even independently of the personal danger which 
they may whisper. They convey, far more than any other appear- 
ance does, the idea of a superior and mighty power, manifesting 
displeasure and threatening punishment. Yet we find that this is 
not the language which they speak to the physical inquirer : he 
sees these formidable symptoms only as the means or the conse- 
quences of good. What office the thunderbolt and the whirlwind 
may have in the moral world, we cannot here discuss : but certainly 
he must speculate as far beyond the limits of philosophy as of 
piety, who pretends to have learnt that there their work has more 
of evil than of good. In the natural world, these apparently de- 
structive agents are, like all the other movements and appearances 
of the atmosphere, parts of a great scheme, of which every dis- 
coverable purpose is marked with beneficence as well as wisdom. 



I 



MAGNETISM. G7 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE LAWS OF MAGNETISM. 

Magnetism has no very obvious or apparently extensive office 
in the mechanism of the atmosphere and the earth : but the men- 
tion of it may be introduced, because its ascertained relations to 
the other powers which exist in the system are well suited to show 
us the connexion subsisting throughout the universe, and to check 
the suspicion, if any such should arise, that any law of nature is 
without its use. The parts of creation when these uses are most ob- 
scure, are precisely those parts when the laws themselves are least 
known. 

When indeed we consider the vast service of which magnetism 
is to man, by supplying him with that invaluable instrument the 
mariner's compass, many persons will require no further evidence 
of this property being introduced into the frame of things with a 
worthy purpose. As however, we have hitherto excluded" use in the 
arts from our line of argument, we shall not here make an exception 
in favour of navigation, and what we shall observe belongs to another 
view of the subject. 

Magnetism has been discovered in modern times to have so 
close a connexion with galvanism, that they may be said to be al- 
most different aspects of the same agent. All the phenomena 
which we can produce with magnets, we can imitate with coils 
of galvanic wire. That galvanism exists in the earth, we need 
no proof. Electricity, which appears to be only galvanism in 
equilibrium, is there in abundance ; and recently, Mr. Fox* has 
shown by experiment that metalliferous veins, as they lie in the 
earth, exercise a galvanic influence on each other. Something of 
this*kind might have been anticipated ; for masses of metal in con- 
tact, if they differ in temperature or other circumstances, are 
known to produce a galvanic current. Hence we have undoubt- 
edly streams of galvanic influence moving along in the earth. 
Whether or not such causes as these produce the directive power 
of the magnetic needle, we cannot here pretend to decide ; they 
can hardly fail to affect it. The Aurora Borealis too, probably an 
electrical phenomenon, is said, under particular circumstances, to 
agitate the magnetic needle. It is not surprising, therefore, that, if 
electricity have an important office in the atmosphere, magnetism 
should exist in the earth. It seems likely, that the magnetic proper- 
ties of the earth may be collateral results of the existence of the 
same cause by which electrical agency operates; an agency which, 
as we have already seen, has important offices in the processes oi 



* Phil, Trans. 1831. 



I 



68 TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 

vegetable life. And thus magnetism belongs to the same system of 
beneficial contrivance to which electricity has been already traced. 

We see, however, on this subject very dimly and a very small way. 
It cay hardly be doubted that magnetism has other functions than 
those we have noticed. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE PROPERTIES OF LIGHT WITH REGARD TO VEGETATION. 

The illuminating power of light will come under our consideration 
hereafter. Its agency, with regard to organic life, is too important 
not to be noticed, though this must be done briefly. Light appears 
to be as necessary to the health of plants as air or moisture. A plant 
may, indeed, grow without it, but it does not appear that a species 
could be so continued. Under such a privation, the parts which are 
usually green, assume a white colour, as is the case with vegetables 
grown in a cellar, or protected by a covering for the sake of pro- 
ducing this very effect ; thus, celery is in this manner blanched, or 
etiolated. 

The part of the process of vegetable life for which light is espe- 
cially essential, appears to be the functions of the leaves ; these are 
affected by this agent in a very remarkable manner. The moisture 
which plants imbibe is, by their vital energies, carried into their 
leaves ; and is then brought in contact with the atmosphere, which, 
besides other ingredients, contains, in general, a portion of carbonic 
acid. So long as light is present, the leaf decomposes the carbonic 
acid, appropriates the carbon to the formation of its own proper 
juices, and returns the disengaged oxygen into the atmosphere; thus 
restoring the atmospheric air to a condition in which it is more fitted 
than it was before for the support of animal life. The plant thus 
prepares the support of life for other creatures at the same time that 
it absorbs its own. The greenness of those members which affect 
that colour, and the disengagement of oxygen, are the indications 
that its vital powers are in healthful action : as soon as we remove 
light from the plant, these indications cease: it has no longer power 
to imbibe carbon and disengage oxygen, but on the contrary, it gives 
back some of the carbon already obtained, and robs the atmosphere 
of oxygen for the purpose of reconverting this into carbonic acid. 

It cannot well be conceived that such effects of light on vegetables, 
as we have described, should occur, if that agent, of whatever nature 
it is, and those organs, had not been adapted to each other. But this 
subject is here introduced that the reader may the more readily re- 



SOUND. G9 

ceive the conviction of combining purpose which must arise, on find- 
ing that an agent, possessing these very peculiar chemical properties, 
is employed to produce also those effects of illumination, vision, &c, 
which form the most obvious portion of the properties of light 



CHAPTER XIV. 

SOUND. 

Besides the function which air discharges as the great agent in 
the changes of meteorology and vegetation, it has another office, aiso 
of great and extensive importance, as the vehicle of sound. 

1. The communication of sound through the air takes place by 
means of a process altogether different from anything of which we 
have yet spoken : namely, by the propagation of minute vibrations 
of the particles from one part of the fluid mass to another, without 
any local motion of the fluid itself. 

Perhaps we may most distinctly conceive the kind of effect here 
spoken of, by comparing it to the motion produced by the wind in a 
field of standing corn; grassy waves travel visibly over the field, in 
the direction in which the wind blows, but this appearance of an ob- 
ject moving is delusive. The only real motion is that of the ears of 
grain, of which each goes and returns, as the stalk stoops and re- 
covers itself. This motion affects successively a line of ears in the 
direction of the wind, and affects simultaneously all those cars of 
which the elevation or depression forms one visible wave. The ele- 
vations and depressions are propagated in a constant direction, while 
the parts with which the space is filled only vibrate to and fro. Of 
exactly such a nature is the propagation of sound through the air. 
The particles of air go and return through very minute spaces, and 
this vibratory motion runs through the atmosphere from the sounding 
body to the ear. Waves, not of elevation and depression, but of con- 
densation and rarefaction, are transmitted ; and the sound thus be- 
comes an object of sense to the organ. 

Another familiar instance of the propagation of vibrations we have 
in the circles on the surface of smooth water, which diverge from 
the point where it is touched by a small object, as a drop of rain. In 
the beginning of a shower for instance, when the drops come dis- 
tinct, though frequent, we may see each drop giving rise to a ring, 
formed of two or three close concentric circles, which grow and 
spread, leaving the interior of the circle smooth, and gradually reach- 
ing parts of the surface more and more distant from their origin. In 
this instance, it is clearly not a portion of the water w hich Hows on- 

7 



70 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



wards; but the disturbance, the rise and fall of the surface which 
makes the ring-formed waves, passes into wider and wider circles, 
and thus the undulation is transmitted from its starting-place, to points 
in all directions on the surface of the fluid. 

The diffusion of these ring-formed undulations from their centre 
resembles the diffusion of a sound from the place where it is pro- 
duced to the points where it is heard. The disturbance, or vibration, 
by which it is conveyed, travels at the same rate in all directions, and 
the waves which are propagated are hence of a circular form. They 
differ, however, from those on the surface of water ; for sound is 
communicated upwards and downwards, and in all intermediate direc- 
tions, as well as horizontally; hence the waves of sound are spherical, 
the point where the sound is produced being the centre of the sphere. 

This diffusion of vibrations in spherical shells of successive con- 
densation and rarefaction, will easily be seen to be different from any 
local motion of the air, as wind, and to be independent of that. The 
circles on the surface of water will spread on a river which is flow- 
ing, provided it be smooth, as well as on a standing canal. 

Not only are such undulations propagated almost undisturbed by 
any local motion of the fluid in which they take place, but also, many 
may be propagated in the same fluid at the same time, without dis- 
turbing each other. We may see this effect on water. When several 
drops fall near each other, the circles which they produce cross each 
other, without either of them being lost, and the separate courses of 
the rings may still be traced. 

All these consequences, both in water, in air, and in any other 
fluid, can be very exactly investigated upon mechanical principles, 
and the greater part of the phenomena can thus be shown to result 
from the properties of the fluids. 

There are several remarkable circumstances in the way in which 
air answers its purpose as the vehicle of sound, of which we will now 
point out a few 7 . 

2. The loudness of sound is such as is convenient for common pur- 
poses. The organs of speech can, in the present constitution of the 
air, produce, without fatigue, such a tone of voice as can be heard 
with distinctness and with comfort. That any great alteration in 
this element might be incommodious, we may judge from the diffi- 
culties to which persons are subject who are dull of hearing, and 
from the disagreeable effects of a voice much louder than usual, or 
so low as to be indistinct. Sounds produced by the human organs, 
with other kinds of air, are very different from those in our common 
air. If a man inhale a quantity of hydrogen gas, and then speak, 
his voice is scarcely audible. 

The loudness of sounds become smaller in proportion as they 
come from a greater distance. This enables us to judge of the dis- 
tance of objects, in some degree at least, by the sounds which pro- 
ceed from them. Moreover it is found that we can judge of the 



SOUND. 



71 



position of objects by the ear: and this judgment seems to be formed 
by comparing the loudness of the impressi6n of the same sound on 
the two ears and two sides of the head.* 

The loudness of sounds appears to depend on the extent of vi- 
bration of the particles of air, and this is determined by the vibrations 
of the sounding body. 

3. The pitch, or the differences of acute and grave, in sounds, 
form another important property, and one which fits them for a 
great part of their purposes. By the succession of different notes, 
we have all the results of melody and harmony in musical sound ; 
and of intonation and modulation of the voice, of accent, cadence', 
emphasis, expression, passion, in speech. The song of birds, which 
is one of* their principal modes of communication, depends chiefly 
for its distinctions and its significance upon the combinations of acute 
and grave. 

These differences are produced by the different rapidity of vi- 
bration of the particles of air. The gravest sound has about eighty 
vibrations in a second, the most acute about one thousand. Between 
these limits each sound has a musical character, and from the differ- 
ent relations of the number of vibrations in a second arise all the 
differences of musical intervals, concords and discords. 

4. The quality of sounds is another of their differences. This is 
the name given to the difference of notes of the same pitch, that is 
the same note as to acute and grave, when produced by different 
instruments. If a flute and a violin be in unison, the notes are 
still quite different sounds. It is this kind of difference which dis- 
tinguishes the voice of one man from that of another : and it is 
manifestly therefore one of great consequence; since it connects 
the voice with the particular person, and is almost necessary in 
order that language may be a medium of intercourse between men. 

5. The articulate character of sounds is for us one of the most 
important arrangements which exist in the world ; for it is by this 
that they become the interpreters of thought, will and feeling, the 
means by which a person can convey his wants, his instructions, his 
promises, his kindness, to others ; by which one man can regulate 
the actions and influence the convictions and judgments of another. 
It is in virtue of the possibility of shaping air into words, that the 
imperceptible vibrations which a man produces in the atmosphere, 
become some of his most important actions ; the foundations of the 
highest moral and social relations ; and the condition and instrument 
of all the advancement and improvement of which he is suscep- 
tible. 

It appears that the differences of articulate sound arise from the 
different form of the cavity through which the sound is made to 
proceed immediately after being produced. In the human voice 

* Mr. Gough in Manch. Mem. vol. v. 



72 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



the sound is produced in the larynx, and modified by the cavity of 
the mouth, and the various organs which surround this cavity. 
The laws by which articulate sounds are thus produced have not 
yet been fully developed, but appear to be in the progress of being so. 

The properties of sounds which have been mentioned, differences 
of loudness, of pitch, of quality, and articulation, appear to be all re- 
quisite in order that sound shall answer its purposes in the economy 
of animal and of human life. And how was the air made capable 
of conveying these four differences, at the same time that the organs 
were made capable of producing them ? Surely by a most refined 
and skilful adaptation, applied with a most comprehensive design. 

6. Again ; is it by chance that the air and the ear exist together? 
Did the air produce the organization of the ear? or the ear, inde- 
pendently organized, anticipate the constitution of the atmosphere ? 
Or is not the only intelligible account of the matter, this, that one 
was made for the other : that there is a mutual adaptation produced 
by an Intelligence which was acquainted with the properties of 
both ; which adjusted them to each other as we find them adjusted, 
in order that birds might communicate by song, that men might 
speak and hear, and that language might play its extraordinary 
part in its operation upon men's thoughts, actions, institutions, and 
fortunes? 

The vibrations of an elastic fluid like the air, and their properties, 
follow from the laws of motion ; and whether or not these laws 
of the motion of fluids might in reality have been other than they 
are, they appear to us inseparably connected with the existence of 
matter, and as much a thing of necessity as we can conceive any- 
thing in the universe to be. The propagation of such vibrations, 
therefore, and their properties, we may at present allow to be a 
necessary part of the constitution of the atmosphere. But what is it 
that makes these vibrations become sound ? How is it that they 
produce such an effect on our senses, and, through those, on our 
minds ? The vibrations of the air seem to be of themselves no 
more fitted to produce sound, than to produce smell. We know 
that such vibrations do not universally produce, sound, but only be- 
tween certain limits. When the vibrations are fewer than eighty 
in a second, they are perceived at separate throbs, and not as a 
continued sound ; and there is a certain limit of rapidity, beyond 
which the vibrations become inaudible. This limit is different to 
different ears, and we are thus assured by one person's ear that 
there are vibrations, though to that of another they do not produce 
sound. How was the human ear adapted so that its perception 
of vibrations as sounds should fall within these limits ? — the very 
limits within which the vibrations fall, which it most concerns us to 
perceive: those of the human voice for instance? How nicely 
are the organs adjusted with regard to the most minute mechanical 
motions of the elements ! 



THE ATMOSPHERE. 



73 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE ATMOSPHERE. 

We have considered in succession a number of the properties 
and operations of the atmosphere, and have found them separately 
very curious. But an additional interest belongs to the subject 
when we consider them as combined. The atmosphere under this 
point of view must appear a contrivance of the most extraordinary 
kind. To answer any of its purposes, to carry on any of its processes, 
separately, requires peculiar arrangements and adjustments; to 
answer, all at once, purposes so varied, to combine without con- 
fusion so many different trains, implies powers and attributes which 
can hardly fail to excite in a high degree our admiration and 
reverence. 

If the atmosphere be considered as a vast machine, it is difficult 
to form any just conception of the profound skill and comprehen- 
siveness of design which it displays. It diffuses and tempers the heat 
of different climates; for this purpose it performs a circulation 
occupying the whole range from the pole to the equator; and while 
it is doing this, it executes many smaller circuits between the sea 
and the land. At the same time, it is the means of forming 
clouds and rain, and for this purpose, a perpetual circulation of 
the watery part of the atmosphere goes on between its lower and 
upper regions. Besides this complication of circuits, it exercises a 
more irregular agency, in the occasional winds which blow from 
all quarters, tending perpetually to restore the equilibrium of heat and 
moisture. But this incessant and multiplied activity discharges only 
a part of the functions of the air. It is, moreover, the most im- 
portant and universal material of the growth and sustenance of 
plants and animals ; and is for this purpose every where present 
and almost uniform in its quantity. With all its local motion, it has 
also the office of a medium of communication between intelligent 
creatures, which office it performs by another set of motions, en- 
tirely different both from the circulation and the occasional move- 
ments already mentioned; these different kinds of motions not 
interfering materially with each other: and this last purpose, so 
remote from the others in its nature, it answers in a manner so 
perfect and so easy, that we cannot imagine that the object could 
have been more completely attained, if this had been the sole pur- 
pose for which the atmosphere had been created. With all these 
qualities, this extraordinary part of our terrestrial system is scarcely 
ever in the way: and when we have occasion to do so, we put forth 
our hand and push it aside, without being aware of its being near us. 

7# 



74 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



We may add, that it is, in addition to all that we have hitherto 
noticed, a constant source of utility and beauty in its effects on 
light. Without air we should see nothing, except objects on which 
the sun's rays fell, directly or by reflection. It is the atmosphere 
which converts sunbeams into daylight, and fills the space in which 
we are with illumination. 

The contemplation of the atmosphere, as a machine which an- 
swers all these purposes, is well suited to impress upon us the 
strongest conviction of the most refined, far-seeing, and far-ruling 
contrivance. It seems impossible to suppose that these various pro- 
perties were so bestowed and so combined, any otherwise than by 
a beneficent and intelligent Being, able and willing to diffuse or- 
ganization, life, health, and enjoyment through all parts of the visi- 
ble world ; possessing a fertility of means which no multiplicity of 
objects could exhaust, and a discrimination of consequences which 
no complication of conditions could embarrass. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

LIGHT. 

Besides the hearing and sound there is another mode by which 
we become sensible of the impressions of external objects, namely, 
sight and light. This subject also offers some observations bearing 
on our present purpose. 

It has been declared by writers on Natural Theology, that the hu- 
man eye exhibits such evidence of design and skill in its construc- 
tion, that no one, who considers it attentively, can resist this impres- 
sion : nor does this appear to be saying too much. It must, at the 
same time, be obvious that this construction of the eye could not 
answer its purposes, except the constitution of light corresponded 
to it. Light is an element of the most peculiar kind and properties, 
and such an element can hardly be conceived to have been placed 
in the universe without a regard to its operation and functions. As 
the eye is made for light, so light must have been made, at least 
among other ends, for the eye. 

1. We must expect to 'comprehend imperfectly only the me- 
chanism of the elements. Still, we have endeavoured to show that 
in some instances the arrangements by which their purposes are 
effected are, to a certain extent, intelligible. In order to explain, 
however, in what manner light answers those ends which appear to 
us its principal ones, we must know something of the nature of 
light. There have, hitherto, been, among men. of science, two pre- 



LIGHT. 



75 



vailing opinions upon this subject : some considering light as con- 
sisting in the emission of luminous particles ; others accounting f or 
its phenomena by the propagation of vibrations through a highly 
subtle and elastic ether. The former opinion has, till lately, been 
most generally entertained in this country, having been the hypo- 
thesis on which Newton made his calculations ; the latter is the one to 
which most of those persons have been led, who, in recent times, 
have endeavoured to deduce general conclusions from the newly 
discovered phenomena of light. Among these persons, the theory 
of undulations is conceived to be established in nearly the same 
manner, and almost as certainly, as the doctrine of universal Gravi- 
tation ; namely, by a series of laws inferred from numeronslacts, 
which, proceeding from different sets of phenomena, are found to 
converge to one common view ; and by calculations founded upon 
the theory, which, indicating new and "untried facts, are found to 
agree exactly with experiment. 

We cannot here introduce a sketch of the progress by which the 
phenomena have thus led to the acceptance of the theory of undu- 
lations. But this theory appears to have such claims to our assent, 
that the views which we have to offer with regard to the design 
exercised in the adaptation of light to its purposes, will depend on 
the undulatory theory, so far as they depend on theory at all.* 

2. The impressions of sight, like those of hearing, differ in inten- 
sity and in kind. Brightness and Colour are the principal differ- 
ences among visible things, as loudness and pitch are among sounds. 
But there is a singular distinction between these senses in one re- 
spect : every object and part of an object seen, is necessarily and 
inevitably referred to some position in the space before us ; and 
hence visible things have place, magnitude, form, as well as light, 
shade, and colour. There is nothing analogous to this in the sense 
of hearing; for though we can, in some approximate degree, guess 
the situation of the point from which a sound proceeds, this is a 
secondary process, distinguishable from the perception of the sound 
itself ; whereas we cannot conceive visible things without form and 
place. 

The law according to which the sense of vision is thus affected, 
appears to be this. By the properties of light, the external scene 
produces, through the transparent parts of the eye, an image or 
picture exactly resembling the reality, upon the back part of the 
retina : and each point which we see is seen in the direction of a 
line passing from its image on the retina, through the centre of the 

* The reader who is acquainted with the two theories of li.^ht, will perceive that 
though we have adopted the doctrine of the ether, the greater part of the argu- 
ments adduced would be equally forcible, if expressed in the language of die 
theory of emission. 



76 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



pupil of the eye.* In this manner we perceive by the eye the situa- 
tion of every point, at the same time that we perceive its exist- 
ence ; and by combining the situations of many points, we have 
forms and outlines of every sort. 

That we should receive from the eye this notice of the position 
of the object as well as of its other visible qualities, appears to be 
absolutely necessary for our intercourse with the external world ; 
and the faculty of doing so is so intimate a part of our constitution 
that we cannot conceive ourselves divested of it. Yet in order to 
imagine ourselves destitute of this faculty, we have only to suppose 
that the eye should receive its impressions as the ear does, and 
should apprehend red and green, bright and dark, without placing 
them side by side ; as the ear takes in the different sounds which 
compose a concert, without attributing them to different parts of 
space. 

The peculiar property thus belonging to vision, of perceiving 
position, is so essential to us, that we may readily believe that some 
particular provision has been made for its existence. The remarka- 
ble mechanism of the eye (precisely resembling that of a camera 
obscura,) by which it produces an image on the nervous web form- 
ing its hinder part, seems to have this effect for its main object. 
And this mechanism necessarily supposes certain corresponding 
properties in light itself, by means of which such an effect becomes 
possible. 

The main properties of light which are concerned in this arrange- 
ment, are reflexion and refraction : reflexion, by which light is re- 
flected and scattered by all objects, and thus comes to the eye from 
all: and refraction, by which its course is bent, when it passes ob- 
liquely out of one transparent medium into another ; and by which, 
consequently, convex transparent substances, such as the cornea 
and humours of the eye, possess the power of making the light con- 
verge to a focus or point ; an assemblage of such points forming 
the images on the retina, which we have mentioned. 

Reflection and refraction are therefore the essential and indis- 
pensable properties of light ; and so far as we can understand, it 
appears that it was necessary that light should possess such proper- 
ties, in order that it might form a medium of communication be- 
tween man and the external world. We may consider its power of 
passing through transparent media (as air) to be given in order that 
it may enlighten the earth : its affection of reflexion, for the pur- 
pose of making colours visible ; and its refraction to be bestowed, 
that it may enable us to discriminate figure and position, by means 
of the lenses of the eye. 

In this manner light may be considered as constituted with a pe- 

* Or rather through the focal centre of the eye, which is always near the centre 
of the pupil. 



LIGHT. 



71 



culiar reference to the eyes of animals, and its leading properties 
may be looked upon as contrivances or adaptations to fit it for its 
visual office. And in such a point of view the perfection of the con- 
trivance or adaptation must be allowed to be very remarkable. 

3. But besides the properties of reflexion and refraction, the most 
obvious laws of light, an extraordinary variety of phenomena have 
lately been discovered, regulated by other laws of the most curious 
kind, uniting great complexity with great symmetry. We refer to 
the phenomena of diffraction, polarisation, and periodical colours, 
produced by crystals and by thin plates. We have, in these facts, 
a vast mass of properties and laws, offering a subject of study which 
has been pursued with eminent skill and intelligence. But these 
properties and laws, so far as has yet been discovered, exert no 
agency whatever, and have no purpose, in the general economy of 
nature. Beams of light polarised in contrary directions exhibit the 
most remarkable differences when they pass through certain crys- 
tals, but manifest no discoverable difference in their immediate im- 
pression on the eye. We have, therefore, here, a number of laws 
of light, which we cannot perceive to be established with any de- 
sign which has a reference to the other parts of the universe. 

Undoubtedly it is exceedingly possible that these differences of 
light may operate in some quarter, and in some way, which we can- 
not detect ; and that these laws may have purposes and may an- 
swer ends of which we have no suspicion. All the analogy of na- 
ture teaches us a lesson of humility, with regard to the reliance which 
w T e are to place on our discernment and judgment as to such matters. 
But with our present knowledge, we may observe, that this curious 
system of phenomena appears to be a collateral result of the me- 
chanism by which the effects of light are produced; and therefore 
a necessary consequence of the existence of that element of which 
the offices are so numerous and so beneficent. 

The new properties of light, and the speculations founded upon 
them, have led many persons to the belief of the undulatory theory; 
which, as we have said, is considered by some philosophers as de- 
monstrated. If we adopt this theory, we consider the luminiferous 
ether to have no local motion ; and to produce refraction and re- 
flexion by the operation of its elasticity alone. We must necessarily 
suppose the tenuity of the ether to be extreme; and if we moreover 
suppose its tension to be very great, which the vast velocity of light 
requires us to suppose, the vibrations by which light is propagated 
will be transverse vibrations, that is the motion to and fro will be 
athwart the line along which the undulation travels ; and from this 
circumstance all the laws of polarisation necessarily follow. And 
the properties of transverse vibrations, combined with the properties 
of vibrations in general, give rise to all the curious and numerous 
phenomena of colours of which we have spoken. 

If the vibrations be transverse, they may be resolved into two dil- 



78 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



ferent planes ; this is 'polarisation : if they fall on a medium which 
has different elasticity in different directions, they will be divided 
into two sets of vibrations; this is double refraction; and so on. 
Some of the new properties, however, as the' fringes of shadows and 
the*colou s o thin plates, follow from the undulatory theory, whether 
the vi bra o s be transverse or not. 

It would appear, therefore, that the propagation of light by means 
of a subtle medium, leads necessarily to the extraordinary collection 
of properties which have recently been discovered; and, at any 
rate, its propagation by the transverse vibrations of such a medium 
does lead inevitably to these results. 

Leaving it therefore to future times to point out the other reasons 
(or uses if they exist) of these newly discovered properties of light, 
in their bearing on other parts of the world, we may venture to say, 
that if light was to be propagated throi gh transparent media by the 
undulations of a subtle fluid, these propert es must result, as neces- 
sarily as the rainbow results from the unequal refrangibility of dif- 
ferent colours. This phenomenon and those, appear alike to be the 
collateral consequences of the laws impressed on light with a view 
to its principal offices. 

Thus the exquisitely beautiful and symmetrical phenomena and 
laws of polarisation, and of crystalline and other effects, may be 
looked upon as indications of the delicacy and subtlety of the me- 
chanism by which man, through his visual organs, is put in commu- 
nication with the external world ; is made acquainted with the forms 
and qualities of objects in the most remote regions of space ; and is 
enabled, in some measure, to determine his position and relation in 
a universe in which he is but an atom. 

4. If we suppose it clearly established that light is produced by 
the vibrations of an ether, we find considerations offer themselves, 
similar to those which occurred in the case of sound. The vibra- 
tions of this ether affect our organs with the sense of light and co- 
lour. Why, or how do they do this ? It is only within certain limits 
that the effect is produced, and these limits are comparatively nar- 
rower here than in the case of sound. The whole scale of colour, 
from violet to crimson, lies between vibrations which are 458 mil- 
lion millions, and 727 million millions in a second ; a proportion 
much smaller than the corresponding ratio for perceptible sounds. 
Why should such vibrations produce perception in the eye, and no 
others ? There must be here some peculiar adaptation of the sensi- 
tive powers to these wonderfully minute and condensed mechanical 
motions. What happens when the vibrations are slower than the 
red, or quicker than the blue? They do not produce vision: do they 
produce any effect? Have they anything to do with heat or with 
electricity? We cannot tell. The ether must be as susceptible of 
these vibrations, as of those which produce vision. But the mecha- 
nism of the eye is adjusted to this latter kind only ; and this precise 



THE ETHER. 7!) 

kind, (whether alone or mixed with others,) proceeds from the sun 
and from other luminaries, and thus communicates to us the state of 
the visible universe. The mere material elements then are full of 
properties which we can understand no otherwise, than as the re- 
sults of a refined contrivance. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE ETHER. 

Ijv what has just been said, we have spoken of light, only with re- 
spect to its power of illuminating objects, and conveying the im- 
pression of them to the eye. It possesses, however, beyond all 
doubt, many other qualities. Light is intimately connected with 
heat, as we see in the case of the sun and of flame ; yet it is clear 
that light and heat are not identical. Light is evidently connected 
too with electricity and galvanism ; and perhaps, through these, 
with magnetism : it is, as has already been mentioned, indispensably 
necessary to the healthy discharge of the functions of vegetable life; 
without it plants cannot duly exercise their vital powers: it mani- 
fests also chemical action in various ways. 

The luminiferous ether then, if we so call the medium in which 
light is propagated, must possess many other properties besides those 
mechanical ones on which the illuminating power depends. It must 
not be merely like a fluid poured into the vacant spaces and inter- 
stices of the material world, and exercising no action on objects; it 
must affect the physical, chemical and vital powers of what it 
touches. It must be a great and active agent in the work of the 
universe, as well as an active reporter of what is done by other 
agents. It must possess a number of complex and refined contri- 
vances and adjustments which we cannot analyze, bearing upon 
plants and chemical compounds, and the imponderable agents ; as 
w r ell as those laws wmich we conceive that we have analyzed, by 
which it is the vehicle of illumination and vision. 

We have had occasion to point out how complex, is the machinery 
of the atmosphere, and how varied its objects ; since, besides be- 
ing the means of communication as the medium of sound, it has 
known laws which connect it with heat and moisture; and other 
laws, in virtue of which it is decomposed by vegetables. It appears, 
in like manner, that the ether is not only the vehicle of light, but has 
also laws, at present unknown, which connect it with heat, electri- 
city, and other agencies; and other laws through which it is neces- 
sary to vegetables, enabling them to decompose air. All analogy 



80 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



leads us to suppose that if we knew as much of the constitution of 
the luminiferous ether as we know of the constitution of the atmo- 
sphere, we should find it a machine as complex and artificial, as skil- 
fully and admirably constructed. 

We know at present very little indeed of the construction of this 
machine. Its existence is, perhaps, satisfactorily made out ; in order 
that we may not interrupt the progress of our argument, we shall 
refer to other works for the reasonings which appear to lead to this 
conclusion. But whether heat, electricity, galvanism, magnetism, 
be fluids ; or effects or modifications of fluids ; and whether such 
fluids or ethers be the same with the luminiferous ether, or with each 
other ; are questions of which all or most appear to be at present 
undecided, and it would be presumptuous and premature here to 
take one side or the other. 

The mere fact, however, that there is such an ether, and that it 
has properties related to other agents, in the way we have suggest- 
ed, is well calculated to extend our views of the structure of the 
universe, and of the resources, if we may so speak, of the Power by 
which it is arranged. The solid and fluid matter of the earth is the 
most obvious to our senses ; over this, and in its cavities, is poured 
an invisible fluid, the air, by which warmth and life are diffused and 
fostered, and by which men communicate with men: over and 
through this again, and reaching, so far as we know, to the utmost 
bounds of the universe, is spread another most subtle and attenuated 
fluid, which, by the play of another set of agents, aids the energies 
of nature, and which, filling all parts of space, is a means of com- 
munication with other planets and other systems. 

There is nothing in all this like any material necessity, compelling 
the world to be as it is and no otherwise. How should the proper- 
ties of these three great classes of agents, visible objects, air, and 
light, so harmonize and assist each other, that order and life should 
be the result. Without all the three, and all the three constituted in 
their present manner, and subject to their present laws, living things 
could not exist. If the earth had no atmosphere, or if the world had 
no ether, all must be inert and dead. Who constructed these three 
extraordinary complex pieces of machinery, the earth with its pro- 
ductions, the atmosphere, and the ether ? Who fitted them into each 
other in many parts, and thus made it possible for them to work to- 
gether 1 We conceive there can be but one answer : a most wise 
and good God. 



RECAPITULATION. 



81 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

RECAPITULATION. 

L It has been shown in the preceding chapters that a great num- 
ber of quantities and laws appear to have been selected in the con- 
struction of the universe; and that by the adjustment to each other 
of the magnitudes and laws thus selected, the constitution of the 
world is what we find it, and is fitted for the support of vegetables 
and animals, in a manner in which it could not have been, if the 
properties and quantities of the elements had been different from what 
they are. We shall- here recapitulate the principal of the laws and 
magnitudes to which this conclusion has been shown to apply. 

1. The Length of the Year, which depends on the force of the 
attraction of the sun, and its distance from the earth. 

2. The Length of the Day. 

3. The Mass of the Earth, which depends on its magnitude and 
density. 

4. The Magnitude of the Ocean. 

5. The Magnitude of the Atmosphere. 

6. The Law and Rate of the Conducting Power of the Earth. 

7. The Law and Rate of the Radiating Power of the Earth. 

8. The Law and Rate of the Expansion of Water by Heat. 

9. The Law and Rate of the Expansion of Water by Cold, be- 
low 40 degrees. 

10. The Law and Quantity of the Expansion of water in 
Freezing. 

11. The Quantity of Latent Heat absorbed in Thawing. 

12. The Quantity of Latent Heat absorbed in Evaporation. 

13. The Law and Rate of Evaporation with regard to Heat. 

14. The Law and Rate of the Expansion of Air by Heat. 

15. The Quantity of Heat absorbed in the Expansion of Air. 

16. The Law and Rate of the Passage of Aqueous Vapour 
through Air. 

17. The Laws of Electricity; its relations to Air and ."Mois- 
ture. 

18. The Fluidity, Density, and Elasticity, of the Air, by means 
of which its vibrations produce Sound. 

19. The Fluidity, Density, and Elasticity of the Ether, by means 
of which its vibrations produce Light. 

8 



82 



TERRESTRIAL ADAPTATIONS. 



2. These are the data, the elements, as astronomers call the quan- 
tities which determine a planet's orbit, on which the mere inorganic 
part of the universe is constructed. To these, the constitution of 
the organic world is adapted in innumerable points, by laws of which 
we can trace the results, though we cannot analyze their machinery. 
Thus, the vital functions of vegetables have periods which corre- 
spond to the length of the year, and of the day; their vital powers 
have forces which correspond to the force of gravity ; the sentient 
faculties of man are such that the vibrations of air, (within certain 
limits,) are perceived as sound, those of ether, as light. And while 
we are enumerating these correspondences, we perceive that there 
are thousands of others, and that we can only select a very small 
number of those where the relation happens to be most clearly made 
out or most easily explained. 

Now, in the list of the mathematical elements of the universe which 
has just been given, why have we such laws and such quantities as 
there occur, and no other ? For the most part, the data there enu- 
merated are independent of each other, and might be altered sepa- 
rately, so far as the mechanical conditions of the case are concern- 
ed. Some of these data probably depend on each other. Thus the 
latent heat of aqueous vapour is perhaps connected with the differ- 
ence of the rate of expansion of water and of steam. But all natu- 
ral philosophers will, probably, agree, that there must be, in this list, 
a great number of things entirely without any mutual dependence, 
as the year and the day, the expansion of air and the expansion of 
steam. There are, therefore, it appears, a number of things which, 
in the structure of the world, might have been otherwise, and which 
are what they are in consequence of choice or of chance. We have 
already seen, in many of the cases separately, how unlike chance 
everything looks :— that substances, which might have existed any 
how, so far as they themselves are concerned, exist exactly in such 
a manner and measure as they should, to secure the welfare of other 
things : — that the laws are tempered and fitted together in the only 
w r ay in which the world could have gone on, according to all that 
we can conceive of it. This must, therefore, be the work of choice; 
and if so, it cannot be doubted, of a most wise and benevolent 
Chooser. 

3. The appearance of choice is still further illustrated by the va- 
riety as well as the number of the laws selected. The laws are 
unlike one another. Steam certainly expands at a very different 
rate from air by the application of heat, probably according to a 
different law: water expands in freezing, but mercury contracts: 
heat travels in a manner quite different through solids and fluids. 
Every separate substance has its own density, gravity, cohesion, 
elasticity, its relations to heat, to electricity, to magnetism ; besides 
all its chemical affinities, which form an endless throng of laws, 
connecting every one substance in creation with every other, and 



RECAPITULATION", 



89 



different for each pair any how taken. Nothing can look less like a 
world formed of atoms operating upon each other according to 
(some universal and inevitable laws, than this does : if such a sys- 
tem of things be conceivable, it cannot be our system. We have, 
it may be, fifty simple substances in the world ; each of which is 
invested with properties, both of chemical and mechanical action, 
altogether different from those of any other substance. Every por- 
tion, however minute, of any of these, possesses all the properties 
of the substance. Of each of these substances there is a certain 
unalterable quantity in the universe; when combined, their com- 
pounds exhibit new chemical affinities, new mechanical laws. Who 
gave these different laws to the different substances 1 who propor- 
tioned the quantity of each? But suppose this done. Suppose 
these substances in existence ; in contact ; in due proportion to each 
other. Is this a world, or at least our world? No more than the 
mine and the forest are the ship of war or the factory. These 
elements, with their constitution perfect, and their proportion suita- 
ble, are still a mere chaos. They must be put in their places. 
They must not be where their own properties would place them. 
They must be made to assume a particular arrangement, or we can 
have no regular and permanent course of nature. This arrange- 
ment must again have additional peculiarities, or we can have no 
organic portion of the world. The millions of millions of particles 
which the world contains, must be finished up in as complete a 
manner, and fitted into their places with as much nicety, as the 
most delicate wheel or spring in a piece of human machinery. 
What are the habits of thought to which it can appear possible that 
this could take place without design, intention, intelligence, purpose, 
knowledge ? 

In what has just been said, we have spoken only of the constitution 
of the inorganic part of the universe. The mechanism, if we may 
so call it, of vegetable and animal life, is so far beyond our com- 
prehension, that though some of the same observations might be 
applied to it, we do not dwell upon the subject. We know that in 
these processes also, the mechanical and chemical properties of 
matter are necessary, but we know too that these alone will not ac- 
count for the phenomena of life. There is something more than 
these. The lowest stage of vitality and irritability appears to carry 
us beyond mechanism, beyond affinity. All that has been said with 
regard to the exactness of the adjustments, the combination of va- 
rious means, the tendency to continuance, to preservation, is appli- 
cable with additional force to the organic creation, so far as we 
can perceive the means employed. These, however, belong to a 
different province of the subject, and must be left to other hands. 



BOOK II. 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



When we turn our attention to the larger portions of the universe, 
the sun, the planets, and the earth as one of them, the moon and 
other satellites, the fixed stars and other heavenly bodies; — the 
views which we obtain concerning their mutual relations, arrange- 
ment and movements, are called, as we have already stated, cosmi- 
cal views. These views will, we conceive, afford us indications of 
the wisdom and care of the Power by which the objects which we 
thus consider, were created and are preserved : and we shall now 
proceed to point out some circumstances in which these attributes 
may be traced. 

It has been observed by writers on Natural Theology, that the 
arguments for the being and perfections of the Creator, drawn from 
cosmical considerations, labour under some disadvantages when 
compared with the arguments founded on those provisions and 
adaptations which more immediately affect the well-being of or- 
ganized creatures. The structure of the solar system has far less 
analogy with such machinery as we can construct and comprehend, 
than we find in the structure of the bodies of animals, or even in 
the causes of the weather. Moreover, we do not see the immediate 
bearing of cosmical arrangements on that end which we most 
readily acknowledge to be useful and desirable, the support and 
comfort of sentient natures. So that, from both causes, the im- 
pression of benevolent design in this case is less striking and pointed 
than that which results from the examination of some other parts 
of nature. 

But in considering the universe, according to the view we have 
taken, as a collection of laws, astronomy, the science which teaches 
us the laws of the motions of the heavenly bodies, possesses some 
advantages, among the subjects from w 7 hich we may seek to learn 
the character of the government of the world. For our knowledge 
of the laws of the motions of the planets and satellites is far more 
complete and exact, far more thorough and satisfactory, than the 
knowledge which we possess in any other department of Natural 
Philosophy. Our acquaintance with the laws of the solar system is 
such, that we can calculate the precise place and motion of most 



SOLAR SYSTEM. 



of its parts at any period, past or future, however remote ; and we 
can refer the changes which take place in these circumstances to 
their proximate cause, the attraction of one mass of matter to ano- 
ther, acting between all the parts of the universe. 

If, therefore, we trace indications of the Divine care, either in the 
form of the laws which prevail among the heavenly bodies, or in 
the arbitrary quantities which such laws involve; (according to the 
distinction explained in the former part of this work ;) we may ex- 
pect that our examples of such care, though they may be less nu- 
merous and obvious, will be more precise than they can be in other 
subjects, where the laws of facts are imperfectly known, and their 
causes entirely hid. We trust that this will be found to be the case 
with regard to some of the examples which we shall adduce. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE STRUCTURE OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 

In the cosmical considerations which we have to offer, we shall 
suppose the general truths concerning the structure of the solar sys- 
tem and of the universe, which have been established by astrono- 
mers and mathematicians, to be known to the reader. It is not 
necessary to go into much detail on this subject. The five planets 
known to the ancients, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, re- 
volve round the sun, at different distances, in orbits nearly circular, 
and nearly in one plane. Between Venus and Mars, our Earth, 
herself one of the planets, revolves in like manner. Beyond Saturn, 
Uranus has been discovered describing an orbit of the same kind ; 
and between Mars and Jupiter, four smaller bodies perform their 
revolutions in orbits somewhat less regular than the rest. These 
planets are all nearly globular, and all revolve upon their axes. 
Some of them are accompanied by satellites, or attendant bodies 
which revolve about them ; and these bodies also have their orbits 
nearly circular, and nearly in the same plane as the others. Sa- 
turn's ring is a solitary example, so far as we know, of such an ap- 
pendage to a planet. 

These circular motions of the planets round the sun, and of the 
satellites round their primary planets, are all kept going by the at- 
traction of the respective central bodies, which restrains the corre- 
sponding revolving bodies from flying off. It is perhaps not very easy 
to make this operation clear to common apprehension. We cannot 
illustrate it by a comparision with any machine of human contrivance 
and fabrication : in such machines everything goes on by contact and 

8* 



86 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



impulse : pressure, and force of all kinds, is exercised and trans- 
ferred from one part to another, by means of a material connexion ; 
by rods, ropes, fluids, gases. In the machinery of the universe there is, 
so far as we know, no material connexion between the parts which 
act on each other. In the solar system no part touches or drives 
another : all the bodies affect each other at a distance, as the magnet 
affects the needle. The production and regulation of such effects, 
if attempted by our mechanicians, would require great skill and nicety 
of adjustment; but our artists have not executed any examples of this 
sort of machinery, by reference to which we can illustrate the ar- 
rangements of the solar system. 

Perhaps the following comparison may serve to explain the kind 
of adjustments of which we shall have to speak. If there be a wide 
shallow round~ basin of smooth marble, and if we take a smooth ball, 
as a billiard ball or a marble pellet, and throw it along the surface of 
the inside of the basin, the ball will generally make many revolutions 
round the inside of the bowl, gradually tending to the bottom in its mo- 
tion. The gradual diminution of the motion, and consequent tendency 
of the ball to the bottom of the bowl, arises from the friction ; and in 
order to make the motion correspond to thatwhich takes place through 
the action of a central force, we must suppose this friction to be got 
rid of. In this case, the ball, once set a going, would run round the 
basin for ever, describing either a circle, or various kinds of ovals, 
according to the way in which it was originally thrown ; whether 
quick or slow, and whether more or less obliquely along the surface. 

Such a motion would be capable of the same kind of variety, and 
the same sort of adjustments, as the motion of a body revolving 
about a larger one by means of a central force. Perhaps the reader 
may understand w 7 hat kind of adjustments these are, by supposing 
such a bowl and ball to be used for a game of skill. If the object of 
the players be to throw the pellet along the surface of the basin, so 
that after describing its curved path it shall pass through a small 
hole in a barrier at some distance from the starting point, it will 
easily be understood that some nicety in the regulation of the force 
and direction with which the ball is thrown will be necessary for 
success. In order to obtain a better image of the solar system, we 
must suppose the basin to be very large and the pellet very small. 
And it will easily be understood that as many pellets as there are 
planets might run round the bowl at the same time with different ve- 
locities. Such a contrivance might form a 'planetarium in which the 
mimic planets would be regulated by the laws of motion as the real 
planets are ; instead of being carried by wires and wheels, as is done 
in such machines of the common construction : and in this planeta- 
rium the tendency of the planets to the sun is replaced by the ten- 
dency of the representative pellets to run down the slope of the bowl. 
We shall refer again to this basin, thus representing the solar system 
with its loose planetary balls. 



CIRCULAR OR HITS. 



87 



CHAPTER II. 

THE CIRCULAR ORBITS OF THE PLANETS ROUND THE SUN. 

The orbit which the earth describes round the sun is very nearly 
a circle : the sun is about one thirtieth nearer to us in winter, than 
in summer. This nearly circular form of the orbit, on a little con- 
deration, will appear to be a remarkable circumstance. 

Supposing the attraction of a planet towards the sun to exist, if the 
planet were put in motion in any part of the solar system, it would 
describe about the sun an orbit of some hind ; it might be a long oval, 
or a shorter oval, or an exact circle. But if we suppose the°result 
left to chance, the chances are infinitely against the last-mentioned 
case. There is but one circle ; there are an infinite number of ovals. 
Any original impulse would give some oval, but only one particular 
impulse, determinate in velocity and direction, will give a circle. If 
we suppose the planet to be originally projected, it must be projected 
perpendicularly to its distance from the sun, and with a certain pre- 
cise velocity, in order that the motion may be circular. 

In the basin to which we have compared the solar system, the ad- 
justment requisite to produce circular motion would require us to 
project our pellet so that after running half round the surface it should 
touch a point exactly at an equal distance from the centre, on the 
other side, passing neither too high nor too low. And the pellet, it 
may be observed, should be in size only one ten thousandth part of 
the distance from the centre, to make the dimensions correspond with 
the cast of the earth's orbit. If the mark were set up and hit, we 
should hardly attribute the result to chance. 

The earth's orbit, however, is not exactly a circle. The mark is 
not precisely a single point, but is a space of the breadth of one thir- 
tieth of the distance from the centre. Still this is much too near an 
agreement with the circle to be considered as the work of chance. 
The chances were great against the ball passing so nearly at the 
same distance, for there were twenty-nine equal spaces through 
which it might have gone, between the mark and the centre, and an 
indefinite number outside the mark. 

But it is not the earth's orbit alone which is nearly a circle : the 
rest of the planets also approach very nearly to that form: Venus 
more nearly still than the earth : Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus have .'i 
difference of about one tenth, between their greatest and least dis- 
tances from the sun: Mars has his extreme distances in the propor- 
tion of five to six nearly; and Mercury in the proportion of two to 
three. The last-mentioned case is a considerable deviation, and two 
of the small planets which lie between Mars and Jupiter, namely 



88 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



Juno and Pallas, exhibit an inequality somewhat greater still ; but 
the smallness of these bodies, and other circumstances, make it pro- 
bable that there may be particular causes for the exception in their 
case. The orbits of the satellites of the Earth, of Jupiter and of 
Saturn, are also nearly circular. 

Taking the solar system altogether, the regularity of its structure 
is very remarkable. The diagram which represents the orbits of the 
planets might have consisted of a number of ovals, narrow and wide 
in all degrees, intersecting and interfering w 7 ith each other in all di- 
rections. The diagram does consist, as all who have opened a book of 
astronomy know, of a set of figures which appear at first sight con- 
centric circles, and which are very nearly so ; no where approach- 
ing to any crossing or interfering, except in the case of the small 
planets, already noticed as irregular. No one, looking at this com- 
mon diagram, can believe that the orbits were made to be so nearly 
circles by chance ; any more than he can believe that a target, such 
as archers are accustomed to shoot at, was painted in concentric cir- 
cles by the accidental dashes of a brush in the hands of a blind man. 

The regularity, then, of the solar system excludes the notion of ac- 
cident in the arrangement of the orbits of the planets. There must 
have been an express adjustment to produce this circular character 
of the orbits. The velocity and direction of the motion of each planet 
must have been subject to some original regulation ; or, as it is often 
expressed, the projectile force must have been accommodated to the 
centripetal force. This once done, the motion of each planet, taken 
by itself, would go on for ever still retaining its circular character, 
by the laws of motion. 

If some original cause adjusted the orbits of the planets to their 
circular form and regular arrangement, we can hardly avoid includ- 
ing in our conception of this cause, the intention and will of a Creat- 
ing Power. We shall consider this argument more fully in a suc- 
ceeding chapter ; only observing here, that the presiding Intelligence, 
which has selected and combined the properties of the organic crea- 
tion, so that they correspond so remarkably with the arbitrary quan- 
tities of the system of the universe, may readily be conceived also 
to have selected the arbitrary velocity and direction of each planet's 
motion, so that the adjustment should produce a close approxima- 
tion to a circular motion. 

We have argued here only from the regularity of the solar system ; 
from the selection of the single symmetrical case and the rejection 
of all the unsym metrical cases. But this subject may be considered 
in another point of view. The system thus selected is not only re- 
gular and symmetrica], but also it is, so far as we can judge, the 
only one which would answer the purpose of the earth, perhaps of 
the other planets, as the seat of animal and vegetable life. If the 
earth's orbit were more eccentric, as it is called, if for instance the 



STABILITY OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 



greatest and least distances were as three to one, the inequality of 
heat at two seasons of the year would be destructive to the existing 
species of living creatures. A circular, or nearly circular, orbit, is 
the only case in which we can have a course of seasons such as we 
have at present, the only case in which the climates of the northern 
and southern hemispheres are nearly the same; and what is more 
clearly important, the only case in which the character of the sea- 
sons would not vary from century to century. For if the eccentri- 
city of the earth's orbit were considerable, the difference of heat at 
different seasons, arising from the different distances of the sun, 
would be combined with the difference, now the only considerable 
one, which depends on the position of the earth's axis. And as by the 
motion of the perihelion, or place of the nearest distance of the earth 
to the sun, this nearest distance would fall in different ages at dif- 
ferent parts of the year, the whole distribution of heat through the 
year would thus be gradually subverted. The summer and winter 
of the tropical year, as we have it now, being combined with the 
heat and cold of the anomalistic year, a period of different length, 
the difference of the two seasons might sometimes be neutralized al- 
together, and at other times exaggerated by the accumulation of the 
inequalities, so as to be intolerable. 

The circular form of the orbit therefore, which, from its unique 
character, appears to be chosen with some design, from its effects on 
the seasons appears to be chosen with this design, so apparent in 
other parts of creation, of securing the welfare of organic life, by a 
steadfast and regular order of the solar influence upon the planet. 



CHAPTER III. 



THE STABILITY OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 



There is a consequence resulting from the actual structure oi the 
solar system, which has been brought to light by the investigations 
of mathematicians concerning the cause and laws of its motions, 
and which has an important bearing on our argument. It appears 
that the arrangement which at present obtains is precisely that which 
is necessary to secure the stability of the system. This point we 
must endeavour to explain. 

If each planet were to revolve round the sun without heme affect- 
ed by other.planets, there would be a certain degree of regularity in 
its motion; and this regularity would continue for ever. But it ap- 



90 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



pears, by the discovery of the law of universal gravitation, that the 
planets do not execute their movements in this insulated and inde- 
pendent manner. Each of them is acted on by the attraction of all 
the rest. The Earth is constantly drawn by Venus, by Mars, by 
Jupiter, bodies of various magnitudes, perpetually changing their 
distances and positions with regard to the earth ; the Earth in return 
is perpetually drawing these bodies. What, in the course of time, 
will be the result of this mutual attraction ? 

All the planets are very small compared with the sun, and there- 
fore the derangement which they produce in the motion of one of 
their number will be very small in the course of one revolution. But 
this gives us no security that the derangement may not become 
very large in the course of many revolutions. The cause acts per- 
petually, and it has the whole extent of time to work in. Is it not 
easily conceivable then that in the lapse of ages the derangements of 
the motions of the planets may accumulate, the orbits may change 
their form, their mutual distances may be much increased or much 
diminished ? Is it not possible that these changes may go on with- 
out limit, and end in the complete subversion and ruin of the sys- 
tem 1 

If, for instance, the result of this mutual gravitation should be to 
increase considerably the eccentricity of the earth's orbit, that is to 
make it a longer and longer oval ; or to make the moon approach per- 
petually nearer and nearer the earth every revolution ; it is easy to see 
that in the one case our year would change its character, as we have 
noticed in the last section ; in the other, our satellite might finally 
fall to the earth, which must of course bring about a dreadful catas- 
trophe. If the positions of the planetary orbits, with respect to that 
of the earth, were to change much, the planets might sometimes 
come very near us, and thus exaggerate the effects of their attrac- 
tion beyond calculable limits. Under such circumstances, we might 
have " years of unequal length, and seasons of capricious tempera- 
ture, planets and moons of portentous size and aspect, glaring and 
disappearing at uncertain intervals;" tides like deluges, sweeping 
over whole continents ; and, perhaps, the collision of two of the 
planets, and the consequent destruction of all organization on both 
of them. 

Nor is it, on a common examination of the history of the solar 
system, at all clear that there is no tendency to indefinite derange- 
ment. The fact really is, that changes are taking place in the mo- 
tions of the heavenly bodies, which have gone on progressively from 
the first dawn of science. The eccentricity of the earth's orbit has 
been diminishing from the earliest observations to our times. The 
moon has been moving quicker and quicker from the time of the 
first recorded eclipses, and is now in advance, by about four times 
her own breadth, of what her place would have been if it had not 
been affected by this acceleration. The obliquity of the ecliptic also 



STABILITY OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. !)1 

is in a state of diminution, and is now about two-fifths of a degree 
less than it was in the time of Aristotle. Will these changes go on 
without limit or reaction 1 If so, we tend by natural causes to a ter- 
mination of the present system of things : If not, by what adjustment 
or combination are we secured from such a tendency ? Is the 53 s- 
tem stable, and if so, what is the condition on which its stability de- 
pends ? 

To answer these questions is far from easy. The mechanical 
problem which they involve is no less than this: — Having given the 
directions and velocities with which about thirty bodies are moving 
at one time, to find their places and motions after any number of 
ages ; each of the bodies, all the while, attracting all the others, and 
being attracted by them all. 

It may readily be imagined that this is a problem of extreme com- 
plexity, when it is considered that every new configuration or ar- 
rangement of the bodies will give rise to a new amount of action on 
each ; and every new action to a new configuration. Accordingly, 
the mathematical investigation of such questions as the above was 
too difficult to be attempted in the earlier periods of the progress of 
Physical Astronomy. Newton did not undertake to demonstrate 
either the stability or the instability of the system. The decision of 
this point required a great number of preparatory steps and simplifi- 
cations, and such progress in the invention and improvement of ma- 
thematical methods, as occupied the best mathematicians of Europe 
for the greater part of last century. But, towards the end of that 
time, it was shown by Lagrange and Laplace that the arrangements 
of the solar system are stable: that in the long run, the orbits and 
motions remain unchanged; and that the changes in the orbits, which 
take place in shorter periods, never transgress certain very mode- 
rate limits. Each orbit undergoes deviations on this side and on 
that of its average state ; but these deviations are never very great, 
and it finally recovers from them, so that the average is preserved. 
The planets produce perpetual perturbations in each other's motions, 
but these perturbations are not indefinitely progressive, they are pe- 
riodical : they reach a maximum value and then diminish. The pe- 
riods which this restoration requires are, for the most part, enor- 
mous; not less than thousands, and, in some instances, millions of 
years; and hence it is, that some of these apparent derangements 
have been going on in the same direction since the beginning of the 
history of the world. But the restoration is in the sequel as com- 
plete as the derangement; and in the mean time the disturbance 
never attains a sufficient amount seriously to alter the adaptations ol 
the system.* 

The same examination of the subject by which this is proved, 
points out also the conditions on which this stability depends. " I have 
succeeded in demonstrating," says Laplace, " that whatever be the 



* Laplace Expos, du Syst. du Monde, p. 441. 



92 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



masses of the planets, in consequence of the fact that they all move 
in the same direction, in orbits of small eccentricity, and slightly in- 
clined to each other — their secular inequalities are periodical and in- 
cluded within narrow limits ; so that the planetary system will only 
oscillate about a mean state, and will never deviate from it except 
by a very small quantity. The ellipses of the planets have been, 
and always will be, nearly circular. The ecliptic will never coin- 
cide with the equator, and the entire extent of the variation in its in- 
clination cannot exceed three degrees." 

There exists, therefore, it appears, in the solar system, a provision 
for the permanent regularity of its motions ; and this provision is 
found in the fact that the orbits of the planets are nearly circular, 
and nearly in the same plane, and the motions all in the same direc- 
tion, namely, from west to east.* 

Now is it probable that the occurrence of these conditions of stabi- 
lity in the disposition of the solar system is the work of chance 1 Such 
a supposition appears to be quite inadmissible. Any one of the orbits 
might have had any eccentricity-! In that of Mercury, where it is 
much the greatest, it is only one-fifth. How came it to pass that the 
orbits were not more elongated 1 A little more or a little less velocity 
in their orignal motions would have made them so. They might have 
had any inclination to the ecliptic from no degrees to ninety degrees. 
Mercury, which again deviates most widely, is inclined 7f- degrees, 
Venus 3f, Saturn 2f-, Jupiter Mars 2. How came it that their 
motions are thus contained within such a narrow strip of the sky? 
One, or any number of them, might have moved from east to west : 
none of them does so. And these circumstances, which appear to 
be, each in particular, requisite for the stability of the system and 
the smallness of its disturbances, are all found in combination. Does 
not this imply both clear purpose and profound skill 1 

* In this statement of Laplace, however, one remarkable provision for the stabi- 
lity of the system is not noticed. The planets Mercury and Mars, which have much 
the largest eccentricities among the old planets, are those of which the masses are 
much the smallest. The mass of Jupiter is more than 2000 times that of either of 
these planets. If the orbit of Jupiter were as eccentric as that of Mercury is, all 
the security for the stability of the system, which analysis has yet pointed out, 
would disappear. The earth and the smaller planets might in that case change their 
approximately circular orbits into very long ellipses, and thus might fall into the 
sun, or fly oft into remote space. 

It is further remarkable that in the newly discovered planets, of which the orbits 
are still more eccentric than that of Mercury, the masses are still smaller, so that 
the same provision is established in this case also. It does not appear that any ma- 
thematician has even attempted to point out a necessary connexion between the 
mass of a planet and the eccentricity of its orbit on any hypothesis. May we not 
then consider this combination of small masses with large eccentricities, so impor- 
tant to the purposes of the world, as a mark of provident care in the Creator? 

f The eccentricity of a planet's orbit is measured by taking the proportion of the 
difference of the greatest and least distances from the sun, to the sum of the same 
distances. Mercury's greatest and least distances are as 2 and 3 ; his eccentricity 
therefore is one-fifth. 



STABILITY OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 



93 



It is difficult to convey an adequate notion of the extreme com- 
plexity of the task thus executed. A number of bodies, all attracting 
each other, are to be projected in such a manner that their revolu- 
tions shall be permanent and stable, their mutual perturbations always 
small. If we return to the basin with its rolling balls, by which we 
before represented the solar system, we must complicate with new 
conditions the trial of skill which we supposed. The problem must 
now be to project at once seven such balls, all connected by strings 
which influence their movements, so that each may hit its respective 
mark. And we must further suppose, that the marks are to be hit 
after many thousand revolutions of the balls. No one will imagine 
that this could be done by accident. 

In fact it is allowed by all those who have considered this subject, 
that such a coincidence of the existing state with the mechanica l re- 
quisites of permanency cannot be accidental. Laplace has -attempted 
to calculate the probability that it is not the result of accident, lie 
takes into account, in addition to the motions which we have men- 
tioned, the revolutions of the satellites about their primaries, and of 
the sun and planets about their axes: and he finds that there i- a 
probability, far higher than that which we have for the greater part 
of undoubted historical events, that these appearances are not the 
effect of chance. " We ought, therefore," he says, " to believe, with 
at least the same confidence, that a primitive cause has directed the 
planetary motions." 

The solar system is thus, by the confession of all sides, completely 
different from anything which we might anticipate from the casual 
operation of its known laws. The laws of motion are no less obeyed 
to the letter in the most irregular than in the most regular motions : 
no less in the varied circuit of the ball which flies round a tennis court, 
than in the going of a clock ; no less in the fantastical jets and leaps 
which breakers make when they burst in a corner of a rocky shore, 
than in the steady swell of the open sea. The laws of motion alone 
will not produce the regularity which we admire in the motions of 
the heavenly bodies. There must be an original adjustment of the 
system on which these laws are to act; a selection of the arbitrary 
quantities which they are to involve ; a primitive cause which shall 
dispose the elements in due relation to each other, in order that regu- 
lar recurrence may accompany constant change; that perpetual 
motion may be combined with perpetual stability ; that derangements 
which go on increasing for thousands or for millions of years may 
finally cure themselves; and that the same laws which lead the 
planets slightly aside from their paths, may narrowly limit their de- 
viations, and bring them back from their almost imperceptible wan- 
derings. 

If a man does not deny that any possible peculiarity in me dis| - 
sition of the planets with regard to the sun could afford evidence ol 
a controlling and ordering purpose, it seems difficult to imagine how 

9 



94 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



he could look for evidence stronger than that which there actually 
is. Of all the innumerable possible cases of systems, governed by 
the existing laws of force and motion, that one is selected which 
alone produces such a steadfast periodicity, such a constant average 
of circumstances, as are, so far as we can conceive, necessary con- 
ditions for the existence of organic and sentient life. And this selec- 
tion is so far from being an obvious or easily discovered means to this 
end, that the most profound and attentive consideration of the pro- 
perties of space and number, with all the appliances and aids we can 
obtain, are barely sufficient to enable us to see that the end is thus 
secured, and that it can be secured in no other way. Surely the 
obvious impression which arises from this view of the subject is, that 
the solar system, with its adjustments, is the work of an Intelligence, 
who perceives, as is self-evident, those truths, to which we attain 
painfully and slowly, and after all imperfectly; who has employed in 
every part of creation refined contrivances, which we can only with 
effort understand ; and who, in innumerable instances, exhibits to us 
what we should look upon as remarkable difficulties remarkably 
overcome, if it w r ere not that, through the perfection of the provision, 
the trace of the difficulty is almost obliterated. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE SUN IN THE CENTRE. 



The next circumstance which we shall notice as indicative of 
design in the arrangement of the material portions of the solar sys- 
tem, is the position of the sun, the source of light and heat, in the 
centre of the system. This could hardly have occurred by any- 
thing which we can call chance. Let it be granted, that the law of 
gravitation is established, and that we have a large mass, with 
others much smaller in its comparative vicinity. The small bodies 
may then move round the larger, but this will do nothing towards 
making it a sun to them. Their motions might take place, the 
whole system remaining still utterly dark and cold, without 
day or summer. In order that we may have something more than 
this blank and dead assemblage of moving clods, the machine must 
be lighted up and warmed. Some of the advantages of placing the 
lighting and warming apparatus in the centre are obvious to us. 
It is in this way only that we could have those regular periodical 
returns of solar influence, which, as we have seen, are adapted to 
the constitution of the living creation. And we can easily conceive, 
that there may be other incongruities in a system with a travelling 



THE SUN IN THE CENTRE. 95 

sun, of which we can only conjecture the nature. No one probably 
will doubt that the existing system, with the sun in the centre, is 
better than any one of a different kind would be. 

Now this lighting and warming by a central sun are something 
superadded to the mere mechanical arrangements of the universe 
There is no apparent reason why the largest mass of gravitating 
matter should diffuse inexhaustible supplies of light and heat in a8 
directions, while the other masses are merely passive, with respect 
to such influences. There is no obvious connexion between mass 
and luminousness, or temperature. No one, probably, will contend, 
that the materials of our system are necessarily luminous or hot! 
According to the conjectures of astronomers, the heat and light 
of the sun do not reside in its mass, but in a coating which lies°on 
its surface. If such a coating were fixed there by the force of uni- 
versal gravitation, how could we avoid having a similar coating 
on the surface of the earth, and of all the other globes of the 
system. If light consist in the vibrations of an ether, which we 
have mentioned as a probable opinion, why has the sun alone the 
power of exciting such vibrations'? If light be the emission of 
material particles, why does the sun alone emit such particles? 
Similar questions may be asked, with regard to heat, whatever 
be the theory we adopt on that subject. Here then we appear to 
find marks of contrivance. The sun might become, we will suppose, 
the centre of the motions of the planets by mere mechanical 
causes : but what caused the centre of their motions to be also the 
source of those vivifying influences ? Allowing that no interposition 
was requisite to regulate the revolutions of the system, yet observe 
what a peculiar arrangement in other respects was necessary, in 
order that these revolutions might produce days and seasons ! The 
machine will move of itself, we may grant : but who constructed the 
machine, so that its movements might answer the purposes of life ? 
How was the candle placed upon the candlestick ? how was the fire 
deposited on the hearth, so that the comfort and well-being of the 
family might be secured ? Did these two fall into their places by 
the casual operation of gravity ? and, if not, is there not here a 
clear evidence of intelligent design, of arrangement with a benevo- 
lent end 1 

This argument is urged with great force by Newton himself. 
In his first letter to Bentley, he allows that matter might form itself 
into masses by the force of attraction. "And thus," says he, 
" might the sun and fixed stars be formed, supposing the matter 
were of a lucid nature. But how the matter should divide itself 
into two sorts ; and that part of it which is fit to compose a shining 
body should fall down into one mass, and make a sun ; and the rest, 
which is fit to compose an opake body, should coalesce, not into em; 
great body, like the shining matter, but into many little ones ; or if 
the sun at first were an opake body like the planets, or the planets 



98 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



lucid bodies like the sun, how he alone should be changed into a 
shining body, whilst all they continue opake ; or all they be 
changed into opake ones, while he continued unchanged : I do not 
think explicable by mere natural causes, but am forced to ascribe it 
to the counsel and contrivance of a voluntary Agent." 



CHAPTER V. 

THE SATELLITES. 

1. A person of ordinary feelings, who, on a fine moonlight night, 
sees our satellite pouring her mild radiance on field and town, path 
and moor, will probably not only be disposed to " bless the useful 
light," but also to believe that it was " ordained" for that purpose ; 
— that the lesser light was made to rule the night as certainly as 
the greater light was made to rule the day. 

Laplace, however, does not assent to this belief. He observes, 
that " some partisans of final causes have imagined that the moon 
was given to the earth to afford light during the night :" but he 
remarks that this cannot be so, for that we are often deprived at the 
same time of the light of the sun and the moon ; and he points out 
how the moon might have been placed so as to be always 
" full." 

That the light of the moon affords, to a certain extent, a supple- 
ment to the light of the sun, will hardly be denied. If we take man 
in a condition in which he uses artificial light scantily only, or not 
at all, there can be no doubt that the moonlight nights are for him 
a very important addition to the time of daylight. And as a small 
proportion only of the whole number of nights are without some 
portion of moonlight, the fact that sometimes both luminaries are 
invisible very little diminishes the value of this advantage. Why we 
have not more moonlight, either in duration or in quantity, is an 
inquiry which a philosopher could hardly be tempted to enter 
upon, by any success which has attended previous speculations of 
a similar nature. Why should not the moon be ten times as large 
as she is? Why should not the pupil of man's eye be ten times as 
large as it is, so as to receive more of the light which does arrive ? 
We do not conceive that our inability to answer the latter question 
prevents our knowing that the eye was made for seeing : nor does 
our inability to answer the former, disturb our persuasion that the 
moon was made to give light upon the earth. 

Laplace suggests that if the moon had been placed at a certain 



THE SATELLITES. 



97 



distance beyond the earth, it would have revolved about the sun in 
the same time as the earth does, and would have always presented 
to us a full moon. For this purpose it must have been about four 
times as far from us as it really is ; and would therefore, other 
things remaining unchanged, have only been one sixteenth as large 
to the eye as our present full moon. We shall not dwell on the dis- 
cussion of this suggestion, for the reason just intimated. But we 
may observe that in such a system as Laplace proposes, it is not yet 
proved, we believe, that the arrangement would be stable under the 
influence of the disturbing forces. And we may add that such an 
arrangement, in which the motion of one body has a co-ordinate refer- 
ence to two others, as the motion of the moon on this hypothesis would 
have to the sun and the earth, neither motion being subordinate to the 
other, is contrary to the whole known analogy of cosmical pheno- 
mena, and therefore has no claim to our notice as a subject of dis- 
cussion. 

2. In turning our consideration to the satellites of the other 
planets of our system, there is one fact which immediately arrests 
our attention ; — the number of such attendant bodies appears to in- 
crease as we proceed to planets farther and farther from the sun. 
Such at least is the general rule. Mercury and Venus, the planets 
nearest the sun, have no such attendants : the Earth has one. Mars, 
indeed, who is still farther removed, has none; nor have the minor 
planets, Juno, Vesta, Ceres, Pallas; so that the rule is only approxi- 
mately verified. But Jupiter, w r ho is at five times the earth's dis- 
tance, has four satellites ; and Saturn, who is again at a distance 
nearly twice as great, has seven, besides that most extraordinary 
phenomenon his ring, which, for purposes of illumination, is equiva- 
lent to many thousand satellites. Of Uranus it is difficult to speak, 
for his great distance renders it almost impossible to observe the 
smaller circumstances of his condition. It does not appear at all 
probable that he has a ring, like Saturn ; but he has at least five 
satellites which are visible to us, at the enormous distance of 900 
millions of miles; and we believe that the astronomer will hardly 
deny that he may possibly have thousands of smaller ones circu- 
lating about him. 

But leaving conjecture, and taking only the ascertained cases of 
Venus, the Earth, Jupiter, and Saturn, we conceive that a person of 
common understanding will be strongly impressed with the persua- 
sion that the satellites are placed in the system with a view to com- 
pensate for the diminished light of the sun at greater distances. 
The smaller planets, Juno, Vesta, Ceres, and Pallas, differ from (lie 
rest in so many ways, and suggest so many conjectures of reasons 
for such differences, that we should almost expect to find them ex- 
ceptions to such a rule. Mars is a more obvious exception. S 
persons might conjecture from his case, that the arrangement itself, 
like other useful arrangements, has been brought about by s 

9* 



98 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



wider law which we have not yet detected. But whether or not we 
entertain such a guess, (it can be nothing more,) we see in other 
parts of creation, so many examples of apparent exceptions to rules, 
which are afterwards found to be explained, or provided for by par- 
ticular contrivances, that no one, familiar with such contemplations, 
will, by one anomaly, be driven from the persuasion that the end 
which the arrangements of the satellites seem suited to answer is 
really one of the ends of their creation. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE STABILITY OF THE OCEAN. 

What is meant by the stability of the ocean may perhaps be ex- 
plained by means of the following illustration. If we suppose the 
whole globe of the Earth to be composed of water, a sphere of 
cork, immersed in any part of it, would come to the surface of the 
water, except it were placed exactly at the centre of the earth ; and 
even if it were the slightest displacement of the cork sphere would 
end in its rising and floating. This would be the case whatever 
were the size of the cork sphere, and even if it were so large as to 
leave comparatively little room for the water ; and the result would 
be nearly the same, if the cork sphere, when in its central position, 
had on its surface prominences which projected above the surface 
of the water. Now this brings us to the case in which we have a 
globe resembling our present earth, composed like it of water and of 
a solid centre, with islands and continents, but having these solid 
parts all made of cork. And it appears by the preceding reasoning, 
that in this case, if there were any disturbance either of the solid 
or fluid parts, the solid parts would rise from the centre of the watery 
sphere as far as they could : that is, all the water would run to one 
side and leave the land on the other. Such an ocean would be in 
unstable equilibrium. 

Now a question naturally occurs, is the equilibrium of our pre- 
sent ocean of this unstable kind, or is it stable ? The sea, after its 
most violent agitations, appears to return to its former state of re- 
pose; but may not some extraordinary cause produce in it some 
derangement which may go on increasing till the waters all rush 
one way, and thus drown the highest mountains 1 And if we are 
safe from this danger, what are the conditions by which we are so 
secured 1 

The illustration which w r e have employed obviously suggests the 
answer to this question ; namely, that the equilibrium is unstable, so 



STABILITY OF THE OCEAN. 99 

Jong as the solid parts are of such a kind as to float in the flqid 
parts; arid of course we should expect that the equilibrium will be 
stable whenever the contrary is the case, that is, when the solid 
parts of the earth are of greater specific gravity than the sea. \ 
more systematic mathematical calculation has conducted Laplace 
to a demonstration of this result. 

The mean specific gravity of the earth appears to be about fin 
times that of water, so that the condition of the stability of the 
ocean is abundantly fulfilled. And the provision by which 'this sta- 
bility is secured was put in force through the action of those causes, 
whatever they were, which made the density of the solid materials 
and central parts of the earth greater than the density of the in- 
cumbent fluid. 

When we consider, however, the manner in which the wisdom of 
the Creator, even in those cases in which his care is most apparent, 
as in the structure of animals, works by means of intermediate 
causes and general laws, we shall not be ready to reject all belief 
of an end in such a case as this, merely because the means are me- 
chanical agencies. Laplace says, " in virtue of gravity, the most 
dense of the strata of the earth are those nearest to the centre ; and 
thus the mean density exceeds that of the waters which cover it ; 
which suffices to secure the stability of the equilibrium of the seas, 
and to put a bridle upon the fury of the waves." This statement, if 
exact, would not prove that He who subjected the materials of the 
earth to the action of gravity did not intend to restrain the rage of 
the waters : but the statement is not true in fact. The lower strata, 
so far as man has yet examined, are very far from being constantlw 
or even generally, heavier than the superincumbent ones. And cer- 
tainly solidification by rio means implies a greater density than 
fluidity: the density of Jupiter is one fourth, that of Saturn less than 
one seventh, of that of the earth. If an ocean of water were poured 
into the cavities upon the surface of Saturn, its equilibrium would not 
be stable. It would leave its bed on one side of the globe; and the 
planet would finally be composed of one hemisphere of water and 
one of land. If the Earth had an ocean of a fluid six times as 
heavy as water, (quicksilver is thirteen times as heavy,) we should 
have, in like manner, a dry and a fluid hemisphere. Our inland 
rivers would probably never be able to reach the shores, but would 
be dried up on their way, like those which run in torrid deserts : 
perhaps the evaporation from the ocean would never reach the In- 
land mountains, and we should have no rivers at all. Without at- 
tempting to imagine the details of such a condition, it is easy to see, 
that to secure the existence of a different one is an end which is in 
harmonv with all that we see of the preserving care displayed in 
the rest of creation.*' 

* The stability of the axis of rotation about which the earth revolves has some- 
times been adduced as an instance of preservative care. This stability, however, 



LOFC. 



100 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS. 

We have referred to Laplace, as a profound mathematician, who 
has strongly expressed the opinion, that the arrangement by which 
the stability of the solar system is secured is not the result of 
chance ; that " a primitive cause has directed the planetary motions." 
This author, however, having arrived, as we have done, at this con- 
viction, does not draw from it the conclusion which has appeared to 
us so irresistible, that " the admirable arrangement of the solar 
system cannot but be the work of an intelligent and most power- 
ful being." He quotes these expressions, which are those of New- 
ton, and points at them as instances where that great philosopher had 
deviated from the method of true philosophy. He himself proposes 
an hypothesis concerning the nature of the primitive cause of 
which he conceives the existence to be thus probable : and this 
hypothesis, on account of the facts which it attempts to combine, 
the view of the universe which it presents, and the eminence of 
the person by whom it is propounded, deserves our notice. 

1. Laplace conjectures that in the original condition of the 
solar system, the sun revolved upon his axis, surrounded by an 
atmosphere which, in virtue of an excessive heat, extended far 
beyond the orbits of all the planets, the planets as yet having no 
existence. The heat gradually diminished, and as the solar atmo- 
sphere contracted by cooling, the rapidity of its rotation increased 
by the laws of rotatory motion, and an exterior zone of vapour 
was detatched from the rest, the central attraction being no longer 
able to overcome the increased centrifugal force. This zone of 
vapour might in some cases retain its form, as w r e see it in Saturn's 
ring; but more usually the ring of vapour would break into seve- 
ral masses, and these would generally coalesce into one mass, 
which would revolve about the sun. Such portions of the solar 
atmosphere, abandoned successively at different distances, would 
form " planets in the state of vapour." These planets, it appears 
from mechanical considerations, would have each its rotatory motion, 
and as the cooling of the vapour still went on, would each pro- 
duce a planet, which might have satellites and rings, formed from 
the planet in the same manner as the planets were formed from 
the atmosphere of the sun. 

would follow necessarily, if the earth, or its superficial parts, were originally fluid; 
and that they were so is an opinion widely received, both among- astronomers and 
geologists. The original fluidity of the earth is probably a circumstance depend- 
ing upon the general scheme of creation; and cannot with propriety be considered 
with reference to one particular result. We shall therefore omit any further con- 
sideration of this argument. 



NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS. 



101 



It may easily be conceived that all the primary motions of a 
system so produced would be nearly circular, nearly in the plane 
of the original equator of the solar rotation, and in the direction 
of that rotation. Reasons are offered also to show that the motions 
of the satellites thus produced and the motions of rotation of the 
planets must be in the same direction. And thus it is held that the 
hypothesis accounts for the most remarkable circumstances in 
the structure of the solar system: namely, the motions of the 
planets in the same direction, and almost in the same plane ; the 
motions of the satellites in the same direction as those of the 
planets; the motions of rotation of these different bodies still in 
the same direction as the other motions, and in planes not much 
different; the small eccentricity of the orbits of the planets, upon 
which condition, along with some of the preceding ones, the 
stability of the system depends ; and the position of the source of 
light and heat in the centre of the system. 

It is not necessary for the purpose, nor suitable to the plan 
of the present treatise, to examine, on physical grounds, the pro- 
bability of the above hypothesis. It is proposed by its author, 
with great diffidence, as a conjecture only. We might, therefore, 
very reasonably put off all discussion of the bearings of this opi- 
nion upon our views of the government of the world, till the opinion 
itself should have assumed a less indistinct and precarious form. 
It can be no charge against our doctrines, that there is a difficulty 
in reconciling with them arbitrary guesses, and half-formed theories. 
We shall, however, make a few observations upon this nebular 
hypothesis, as it may be termed. 

2. If we grant, for a moment, the hypothesis, it by no means 
proves that the solar system was formed without the intervention 
of intelligence and design. It only transfers our view of the skill 
exercised, and the means employed, to another part of the work. 
For, how came the sun and its atmosphere to have such materials, 
such motions, such a constitution, that these consequences followed 
from their primordial condition? How came the parent vapour 
thus to be capable of coherence, separation, contraction, solidifica- 
tion] How came the laws of its motion, attraction, repulsion, 
condensation, to be so fixed, as to lead to a beautiful and har- 
monious system in the end? How came it to be neither too fluid 
nor too tenacious, to contract neither too quickly nor too slowly, for 
the successive formation of the several planetary bodies? H<»w 
came that substance, which at one time was a luminous vapour, to 
be at a subsequent period, solids and fluids of many various kinds I 
What but design and intelligence prepared and tempered this pre- 
viously existing element, so that it should by its natural changes 
produce such an orderly system ? 

And if in this way we suppose a planet to be produced, what 
sort of a body would it be?— something, it may be presumed, re- 



102 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



sembling a large meteoric stone. How comes this mass to be 
covered with motion and organization, with life and happiness? 
What primitive cause stocked it with plants and animals, and pro- 
duced all the wonderful and subtle contrivances which we find in 
their structure, all the wide and profound mutual dependencies 
which we trace in tkeir economy? Was man, with his thought and 
feeling, his powers and hopes, his will and conscience, also produced 
as an ultimate result of the condensation of the solar atmosphere? 
Except we allow a prior purpose and intelligence presiding over 
this material " primitive cause," how irreconcilable is it with the 
evidence which crowds in upon us from every side ! 

3. In the next place, we may observe concerning this hypothesis, 
that it carries us back to the beginning of the present system of 
things ; but that it is impossible for our reason to stop at the point 
thus presented to it. The sun, the earth, the planets, the moons were 
brought into their present order out of a previous state, and, as is 
supposed in the theory, by the natural operation of laws. But how 
came that previous state to exist? We are compelled to suppose 
that it, in like manner, was educed from a still prior state of 
things ; and this, again, must have been the result of a condition 
prior still. Nor is it possible for us to find, in the tenets of the 
nebular hypothesis, any resting-place or satisfaction for the mind. 
The same reasoning faculty, which seeks for the origin of the 
present system of things, and is capable of assenting to, or dissent- 
ing from the hypothesis propounded by Laplace as an answer to 
this inquiry, is necessarily led to seek, in the same manner, for the 
origin of any previous system of things, out of which the present 
may appear to have grown: and must pursue this train of inquiries 
unremittingly, so long as the answer which it receives describes a 
mere assemblage of matter and motion ; since it would be to con- 
tradict the laws of matter and the nature of motion, to suppose 
such an assemblage to be the first condition. 

The reflection just stated, may be illustrated by the further con- 
sideration of the Nebular Hypothesis. This opinion refers us, for 
the origin of the solar system, to a sun surrounded with an atmo- 
sphere of enormously elevated temperature, revolving and cooling. 
But as we ascend to a still earlier period, what state of things are 
we to suppose ? — a still higher temperature, a still more diffused at- 
mosphere. Laplace conceives that, in its primitive state, the sun 
consisted in a diffused luminosity so as to resemble those ne- 
bulas among the fixed stars, which are seen by the aid of the tele- 
scope, and which exhibit a nucleus, more or less brilliant, surrounded 
by a cloudy brightness. " This anterior state was itself preceded 
by other states, in which the nebulous matter was more and more 
diffuse, the nucleus being less and less luminous. We arrive," 
Laplace says, " in this manner, at a nebulosity so diffuse, that its 
existence could scarcely be suspected." 



NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS. 



103 



"Such is," he adds, " in fact, the first state of the nebula; which 
Herschel carefully observed by means of his powerful telescopes. 
He traced the progress of condensation, not indeed on one nebula, 
for this progress can only become perceptible to us in the com 
centuries; but in the assemblage of nebula); much in the same 
manner as in a large forest we may trace the growth of trees among 
the examples of different ages which stand side by side. He saw 
in the first place the nebulous matter dispersed in patches, in the 
different parts of the sky. He saw in some of these patches this 
matter feebly condensed round one or more faint nuclei. In other 
nebulas, these nuclei were brighter in proportion to the surrounding 
nebulosity ; when by a further condensation the atmosphere of each 
nucleus becomes separate from the others, the result is multiple nebu- 
lous stars, formed by brilliant nuclei very near each other, and each 
surrounded by an atmosphere : sometimes the nebulous matter con- 
densing in a uniform manner has produced nebulous systems which 
are called planetary. Finally, a still greater degree of condensa- 
tion transforms all these nebulous systems into stars. The nebula?, 
classed according to this philosophical view, indicate with extreme 
probability their future transformation into stars, and the anterior 
nebulous condition of the stars which now exist." 

It appears then that the highest point to which this series of con- 
jectures can conduct us, is " an extremely diffused nebulosity," at- 
tended, we may suppose, by a far higher degree of heat, than that 
which, at a later period of the hypothetical process, keeps all the 
materials of our earth and planets in a state of vapour. Now is it 
not impossible to avoid asking, whence was this light, this heat, this 
diffusion ? How came the laws which such a state implies, to be 
already in existence ? Whether light and heat produce their effects 
by means of fluid vehicles or otherwise, they have complex and 
varied laws which indicate the existence of some subtle machinery 
for their action. When and how was this machinery constructed '. 
Whence too that enormous expansive power which the nebulous 
matter is supposed to possess ? And if, as would seem to be sup- 
posed in this doctrine, all the material ingredients of the earth 
existed in this diffuse nebulosity, either in the state of vapour, or in 
some state of still greater expansion, whence were they and their 
properties? how came there to be of each simple substance which 
now enters into the composition of the universe, just so much and 
no more? Do we not, far more than ever, require an origin of this 
origin? an explanation of this explanation? Whatever may he the 
merits of the opinion as a physical hypothesis, with which we do 
not here meddle, can it for a moment prevent our looking beyond 
the hypothesis, to a First Cause, an Intelligent Author, an origin 
proceeding from free volition, not from material necessity .' 

But again: let us ascend to the highest point of the hypothetical 
progression: let us suppose the nebulosity diffused throughout all 



104 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



space, so that its course of running into patches is not yet begun. 
How are we to suppose it distributed 1 Is it equably diffused in 
every part 1 clearly not ; for if it were, what should cause it to ga- 
ther into masses, so various in size, form and arrangement ? The 
separation of the nebulous matter into distinct nebulae implies neces- 
sarily some original inequality of distribution ; some determining 
circumstances in its primitive condition. Whence were these circum- 
stances ? this inequality % we are still compelled to seek some ulterior 
agency and power. 

Why must the primeval condition be one of change at all 1 Why 
should not the nebulous matter be equably diffused throughout space, 
and continue for ever in its state of equable diffusion, as it must do, 
from the absence of all cause to determine the time and manner of 
its separation ? why should this nebulous matter grow cooler and 
cooler 1 why should it not retain for ever the same degree of heat, 
whatever heat be 1 If heat be a fluid, if to cool be to part with this 
fluid, as many philosophers suppose, what becomes of the fluid heat 
of the nebulous matter, as the matter cools down 1 Into what un- 
occupied region does it find its way ? 

Innumerable questions of the same kind might be asked, and the 
conclusion to be drawn is, that every new physical theory which we 
include in our view of the universe, involves us in new difficulties 
and perplexities, if we try to erect it into an ultimate and final ac- 
count of the existence and arrangement of the world in which we 
live. With the evidence of such theories, considered as scientific 
generalizations of ascertained facts, with their claims to a place in 
our natural philosophy, we have here nothing to do. But if they 
are put forwards as a disclosure of the ultimate cause of that which 
occurs, and as superseding the necessity of looking further or 
higher ; if they claim a place in our Natural Theology, as well as 
our Natural Philosophy ; we conceive that their pretensions will not 
bear a moment's examination. 

Leaving then to other persons and to future ages to decide upon 
the scientific merits of the nebular hypothesis, we conceive that the 
final fate of this opinion cannot, in sound reason, affect at all the 
view which we have been endeavouring to illustrate ; — the view of 
the universe as the work of a wise and good Creator. Let it be 
supposed that the point to which this hypothesis leads us, is the ulti- 
mate point of physical science : that the farthest glimpse we can 
obtain of the material universe by our natural faculties, shows it to 
us occupied by a boundless abyss of luminous master: still we ask, 
how space came to be thus occupied, how matter came to be thus 
luminous? If we establish by physical proofs, that the first fact 
which can be traced in the history of the world, is that " there was 
light :" we shall still be led, even by our natural reason, to suppose 
that before this could occur, "-God said, let there be light." 



RESISTING MEDIUM. 



10;> 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE EXISTENCE OF A RESISTING MEDIUM IN THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 

The question of a plenum and a vacuum was formerly much de- 
bated among those who speculated concerning the constitution of 
the universe; that is, they disputed whether the celestial and terres- 
trial spaces are absolutely full, each portion being occupied by some 
matter or other ; or whether there are, between and among the 
material parts of the w T orld, empty spaces free from all matter, how- 
ever rare. This question was often treated by means of abstract 
conceptions and & priori reasonings; and was sometimes considered 
as one in which the result of the struggle between rival systems of 
philosophy, the Cartesian and Newtonian for instance, was involved. 
It was conceived by some that the Newtonian doctrine of the mo- 
tions of the heavenly bodies, according to mechanical laws, re- 
quired that the space in which they moved should be, absolutely and 
metaphysically speaking, a vacuum. 

This, however, is not necessary to the truth of the Newtonian 
doctrines, and does not appear to have been intended to be asserted 
by Newton himself. Undoubtedly, according to his theory, the mo- 
tions of the heavenly bodies were calculated on the supposition that 
they do move in a space void of any resisting fluid ; and the com- 
parison of the places so calculated with the places actually observed, 
(continued for a long course of years, and tried in innumerable 
cases,) did not show any difference which implied the existence oi 
a resisting fluid. The Newtonian, therefore, was justified in assert- 
ing that either there was no such fluid, or that it was so thin and 
rarefied, that no phenomenon yet examined by astronomers was 
capable of betraying its effects. 

This was all that the Newtonian needed or ought to maintain : 
for his philosophy, founded altogether upon observation, had nothing 
to do with abstract possibilities and metaphysical necessities. And 
in the same manner in which observation and calculation thus 
showed that there could be none but a very rare medium pervading 
the solar system, it was left open to observation and calculation to 
prove that there was such a medium, if any facts could be dis- 
covered which offered suitable evidence. 

Within the last few years, facts have been observed which show, 
in the opinion of some' of the best mathematicians of Europe, thai 
such a very rare medium does really occupy the spaces in which 
the planets move; and it may be proper and interesting to roiMder 
the bearing of this opinion upon the views and arguments which we 
have had here to present. ff , 

1. Reasons mi^ht be offered, founded on the universal diffusion 01 

10 



106 



COSMIC AL ARRANGEMENTS. 



light and on other grounds, for believing that the planetary spaces 
cannot be entirely free from matter of some kind ; and wherever 
matter is, we should expect resistance. But the facts which have 
thus led astronomers to the conviction that such a resisting medium 
really exists, are certain circumstances occurring in the motion of a 
body revolving round the sun, which is now usually called Encke's 
comet. This body revolves in a very eccentric or oblong orbit, its 
greatest or aphelion distance from the sun, and its nearest or perihe- 
lion distance, being in the proportion of more than ten to one. In 
this respect it agrees with other comets ; but its time of revolution 
about the sun is much less than that of the comets w T hich have ex- 
cited most notice ; for while they appear only at long intervals of 
years, the body of which we are now speaking returns to its perihe- 
lion every 1208 days, or in about three years and one-third. Another 
observable circumstance in this singular body, is its extreme appa- 
rent tenuity: it appears as a loose indefinitely formed speck of va- 
pour, through which the stars are visible with no perceptible dimi- 
nution of their brightness. This body was first seen by Mechain 
and Messier, in 1786,* but they obtained only two observations, 
whereas three, at least, are requisite to determine the path of a hea- 
venly body. Miss Herschel discovered it again in 1795, and it was 
observed by several European astronomers. In 1805 it w 7 as again 
seen, and again in 1819. Hitherto it was supposed that the four 
comets thus observed were all different; Encke, however, showed 
that the observations could only be explained by considering them 
as returns of the same revolving body; and by doing this, well me- 
rited that his name should be associated with the subject of his dis- 
covery. The return of this body in 1822, was calculated before- 
hand, and observed in New South Wales, the comet being then in 
the southern part of the heavens ; but on comparing the calculated 
and the observed places, Encke concluded that the observations 
could not be exactly explained, without supposing a resisting me- 
dium. This comet was again generally observed in Europe in 1825 
and 1828, and the circumstances of the last appearance were parti- 
cularly favourable for determining the absolute amount of the retar- 
dation arising from the medium, which the other observations had 
left undetermined. 

The effect of this retarding influence is, as might be supposed 
from what has already been said, extremely slight; and would pro- 
bably not have been perceptible at all, but for the loose texture and 
small quantity of matter of the revolving body. It will easily be 
conceived that a body which has perhaps no more solidity or cohe- 
rence than a cloud of dust, or a wreath of smoke, will have less force 
to make its way through a fluid medium, however thin, than a more 
dense and compact body would have. In atmospheric air much 

* Airy on Encke's Comet, p. 1. note. 



RESISTING MEDIUM. 



107 



rarefied, a bullet might proceed for miles without losing any of its 
velocity, while such a loose mass as the comet is supposed to be 
would lose its projectile motion in the space of a few yards. This 
consideration will account for the circumstance, that the existence 
of such a medium has been detected by observing the motions of 
Encke's comet, though the motions of the heavenly bodies previously 
observed showed no trace of such an impediment. 

It will perhaps appear remarkable that a body so light and loose 
as we have described this comet to be, should revolve about the sun 
by laws as fixed and certain as those which regulate the motions of 
those great and solid masses, the Earth and Jupiter. It is however 
certain from observation, that this comet is acted upon by exactly 
the same force of solar attraction, as the other bodies of the system ; 
and not only so, but that it also experiences the same kind of dis- 
turbing force from the action of the other planets, which they exer- 
cise upon each other. The effect of all these causes has been cal- 
culated with great care and labour; and the result has been an 
agreement with observation sufficiently close to show that these 
causes really act, but at the same time a residual phenomenon (as 
Sir J. Herschel expresses it) has come to light : and from this has 
been collected the inference of a resisting medium. 

This medium produces a very small effect upon the motion of the 
comet, as will easily be supposed from what has been said. By 
Encke's calculation/it appears that the effect of the resistance, sup- 
posing the comet to move in the earth's orbit, would be about 1 -850th 
of the sun's force on the body. The effect of such a resistance may 
appear, at first sight, paradoxical ; it wou'd be to make the comet 
move more slowly, but perform its revolutions more quickly. This, 
however, will perhaps be understood if it be considered that by 
moving more slowly the comet will be more rapidly drawn towards 
the centre, and that in this way a revolution will be described by a 
shorter path than it was before. It appears, that in getting round 
the sun, the comet gains more in this way than it loses by the dimi- 
nution of its velocity. The case is much like that of a stone thrown 
in the air; the stone moves more slowly than it would do it there 
were no air ; but yet it comes to the earth sooner than it would do 
on that supposition. 

It appears that the effect of the resistance of the ethereal medium, 
from the first discovery of the comet up to the present time, has been 
to diminish the time of revolution by about two days: and the comet 
is ten days in advance of the place which it would have readied, il 
there had been no resistance. 

2. The same medium which is thus shown to produce an ettect 
upon Encke's comet, must also act upon the planets which move 
through the same spaces. The effect upon the planets, however, 
must be very much smaller than the effect upon the comet, in con- 
sequence of "their greater quantity of matter. 



108 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



It is not easy to assign any probable value, or even any certain 
limit, to the effect of the resisting medium upon the planets. We 
are entirely ignorant of the comparative mass of the comet, and of 
any of the planets ; and hence, cannot make any calculation found- 
ed on such a comparison. Newton has endeavoured to show how 
small the resistance of the medium must be, if it exist* The result 
of his calculation is, that if we take the density of the medium to be 
that which our air will have at 200 miles from the earth's surface, 
supposing the law of diminution of density to go on unaltered, and 
if w T e suppose Jupiter to move in such a medium, he would in a mil- 
lion years lose less than a millionth part of his velocity. If a pla- 
net, revolving about the sun, were to lose any portion of its velocity, 
by the effect of resistance, it would be drawn proportionally nearer 
the sun, the tendency towards the centre being no longer sufficiently 
counteracted by that centrifugal force which arises from the body's 
velocity. And if the resistance were to continue to act, the body 
would be drawn perpetually nearer and nearer to the centre, and 
would describe its revolutions quicker and quicker, till at last it 
would reach the central body, and the system w r ould cease to be a 
system. 

This result is true, however small be the velocity lost by resist- 
ance ; the only difference being, that when the resistance is small, 
the time requisite to extinguish the whole motion will be proportion- 
ally longer. In all cases the times which come under our conside- 
ration in problems of this kind, are enormous to common apprehen- 
sion. Thus Encke's comet, according to the results of the observa- 
tions already made, will lose, in ten revolutions, or thirty-three years, 
less than l-1000th of its velocity: and if this law were to continue, 
the velocity would not be reduced to one-half its present value in 
less than seven thousand revolutions or twenty-three thousand years. 
If Jupiter were to lose one-millionth of his velocity in a million years, 
(which, as has been seen, is far more than can be considered in any- 
way probable,) he would require seventy millions of years to lose 
l-1000th of the velocity ; and a period seven hundred times as long 
to reduce the velocity to one-half. These are periods of time which 
quite overwhelm the imagination ; and it is not pretended that the 
calculations are made with any pretensions to accuracy. But at 
the same time it is beyond doubt that though the intervals of time 
thus assigned to these changes are highly vague and uncertain, the 
changes themselves must, sooner or later, take place, in consequence 
of the existence of the resisting medium. Since there is such a re- 
tarding force perpetually acting, how r ever slight it be, it must in the 
end destroy all the celestial motions. It may be millions of millions 
of years before the earth's retardation may perceptibly affect the 
apparent motion of the sun ; but still the day will come (if the same 



* E'rincipia, b. iii. prop. x. 



RESISTING MEDIUM. 



100 



Providence which formed the system, should permit it to continue so 
iong) when this cause will entirely change the length of our year 
and the course of our seasons, and finally stop the earth's motion 
round the sun altogether. The smallness of the resistance, however 
small we choose to suppose it, does not allow us to escape this cer- 
tainty. There is a resisting medium ; and, therefore, the movements 
of the solar system cannot go on for ever. The moment such a 
fluid is ascertained to exist, the eternity of the movements of the 
planets becomes as impossible as a perpetual motion on the earth. 

3. The vast periods which are brought under our consideration in 
tracing the effects of the resisting medium, harmonize with all that 
we learn of the constitution of the universe from other sources. Mil- 
lions, and millions of millions of years are expressions that at first 
sight appear fitted only to overwhelm and confound all our powers 
of thought ; and such numbers are no doubt beyond the limits of 
anything which we distinctly conceive. But our powers of concep- 
tion are suited rather to the wants and uses of common life, than to 
a complete survey of the universe. It is in no way unlikely that the 
whole duration of the solar system should be a period immeasurably 
great in our eyes, though demonstrably finite. Such enormous num- 
bers have been brought under our notice by all the advances we have 
made in our knowledge of nature. The smallness of the objects de- 
tected by the microscope and of their parts ; — the multitude of the 
stars which the best telescopes of modern limes have discovered in 
the sky ; — the duration assigned to the globe of the earth by geolo- 
gical investigation ; — all these results require for their probable ex- 
pression, numbers, which so far as we see, are on the same gigantic 
scale as the number of years in which the solar system will become 
entirely deranged. Such calculations depend in some degree on our 
relation to the vast aggregate of the works of our Creator ; and no 
person who is accustomed to meditate on these subjects will be sur- 
prised that the numbers which such an occasion requires should 0] - 
press our comprehension. No one who has dwelt on the thought ot 
a universal Creator and Preserver, will be surprised to find the con- 
viction forced upon the mind by every new train of speculation, thai 
viewed in reference to Him, our space is a point, our time a moment, 
our millions a handful, our permanence a quick decay. 

Our knowledge of the vast periods, both geological and astrono- 
mical, of which we have spoken, is most slight. It is in fact little 
more than that such periods exist ; that the surface of tlie earth has, 
at wide intervals of time, undergone great changes in the dispositK i 
of land and water, and in the forms of animal life ; and that the na- 
tions of the heavenly bodies round the sun are affected, though with 
inconceivable slowness, bv a force which must end by deranging 
them altogether. It would therefore be rash to endeavour to esta- 
blish any analogy between the periods thus disclosed: hut we mayo - 
serve that they agree in this, that they reduce all things to the general 

10* 



110 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



rule of finite duration. As all the geological states of which we 
find evidence in the present state of the earth, have had their termi- 
nation, as also the astronomical conditions under which the revolu- 
tions of the earth itself proceed, involve the necessity of a future ces- 
sation of these revolutions. 

The contemplative person may w r ell be struck by this universal 
law of the creation. We are in the habit sometimes of contrasting 
the transient destiny of man with the permanence of the forests, the 
mountains, the ocean, — with the unwearied circuit of the sun. But 
this contrast is a delusion of our own imagination : the difference is 
after all but one of degree. The forest tree endures for its centuries 
and then decays ; the mountains crumble and change, and perhaps 
subside in some convulsion of nature ; the sea retires, and the shore 
ceases to resound with the " everlasting" voice of the ocean : such re- 
flections have already crowded upon the mind of the geologist ; and it 
now appears that the courses of the heavens themselves are not ex- 
empt from the universal law of decay ; that not only the rocks and 
the mountains, but the sun and the moon have the sentence " to end" 
stamped upon their foreheads. They enjoy no privilege beyond man 
except a longer respite. The ephemeron perishes in an hour; man 
endures for his threescore years and ten ; an empire, a nation, num- 
bers its centuries, it may be its thousands of years ; the continents 
and islands which its dominion includes have perhaps their date, as 
those which preceded them have had ; and the very revolutions of 
the sky by which centuries are numbered will at last languish and 
stand still. 

To dwell on the moral and religious reflections suggested by this 
train of thought is not to our present purpose ; but we may observe that 
it introduces a homogeneity, so to speak, into the government of the 
universe. Perpetual change, perpetual progression, increase and 
diminution, appear to be the rules of the material world, and to pre- 
vail without exception. The smaller portions of matter which we 
have near us, and the larger, w T hich appear as luminaries at a vast 
distance, different as they are in our mode of conceiving them, obey 
the same laws of motion ; and these laws produce the same results ; 
in both cases motion is perpetually destroyed, except it be repaired 
by some living power ; in both cases the relative rest of the parts of 
a material system is the conclusion to which its motion tends. 

4. It may perhaps appear to some, that this acknowledgment of 
the tendency of the system to derangement through the action of a 
resisting medium is inconsistent w T ith the argument which we have 
drawn in a previous chapter, from the provisions for its stability. In 
reality, however, the two views are in perfect agreement, so far as our 
purpose is concerned. The main point which we had to urge, in the 
consideration of the stability of the system, was, not that it is con- 
structed to last for ever, but that while it lasts, the deviations from its 
mean condition are very small. It is this property which fits the 



RESISTING MEDIUM. \\[ 

world for its uses. To maintain either the past or the future eternity 
of the world, does not appear consistent with physical principles, as 
it certainly does not fall in with the convictions of the religious man, 
in whatever way obtained. We conceive that this state of things has 
had a beginning; we conceive that it will have an end. But Tn the 
mean time we find it fitted, by a number of remarkable arrangements, 
to be the habitation of living creatures. The conditions which secure 
the stability, and the smallness of the perturbations of the system, are 
among these provisions. If the eccentricity of the orbit of Venus, 
or of Jupiter, were much greater than it is, not only might some of 
the planets, at the close of ages, fall into the sun or fly off into in- 
finite space, but also, in the intermediate time, the earth's orbit might 
become much more eccentric ; the course of the seasons and the 
average of temperature might vary from what they now are, so as 
to injure or destroy the whole organic creation. By certain original 
arrangements these destructive oscillations are prevented. So long 
as the bodies continue to revolve, their orbits will not be much dif- 
ferent from what they now are. And this result is not affected by 
the action of the resisting medium. Such a medium cannot increase 
the small eccentricities of the orbits. The range of the periodical 
oscillations of heat and cold will not be extended by the mechanical 
effect of the medium, nor w 7 ould be, even if its density were incom- 
parably greater than it is. The resisting medium therefore does not 
at all counteract that which is most important in the provision for 
the permanency of the solar system. If the stability of the system 
had not been secured by the adjustments which we described in a 
former chapter, the course of the seasons might have been disturbed 
to an injurious or even destructive extent in the course of a few- cen- 
turies, or even within the- limits of one generation ; by the effect of 
the resisting medium, the order of nature remains unchanged for a 
period, compared with which the known duration of the human race 
is insignificant. 

But, it may be objected, the effect of the medium must be ul- 
timately to affect the duration of the earth's revolution round the 
sun, and thus to derange those adaptations which depend on the 
length of the year. And, without question, if we permit ourselves 
to look forwards to that inconceivably distant period at which 
the effect of the medium will become 'sensible, this must be al- 
lowed to be true, as has been already stated. Millions, and pro- 
bably millions of millions, of years express inadequately the dis- 
tance of time at which this cause would produce a serious effect. 
That the machine of the universe is so constructed that h may 
answer its purposes for such a period, is surely sufficient prooi oi 
the skill of its workmanship, and of the reality of its purpose: 
and those persons, probably, who are best convinced thai it is the 
work of a wise and good Creator, will be least disposed to consider 



112 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



the system as imperfect, because in its present condition it is not 
fitted for eternity. 

5. The doctrine of a Resisting Medium leads us towards a point 
which the Nebular Hypothesis assumes ; — a beginning of the pre- 
sent order of things. There must have been a commencement of 
the motions now going on in the solar system. Since these motions, 
when once begun, would be deranged and destroyed in a period 
which, however large, is yet finite, it is obvious we cannot carry 
their origin indefinitely backwards in the range of past duration. 
There is a period in which these revolutions, whenever they had 
begun, would have brought the revolving bodies into contact with 
the central mass ; and this period has in our system not yet elapsed. 
The watch is still going, and therefore it must have been wound 
up within a limited time. 

The solar system, at this its beginning, must have been arranged 
and put in motion by some cause. Jf we suppose this cause to 
operate by means of the configurations and the properties of pre- 
viously existing matter, these configurations must have resulted from 
some still previous cause, these properties must have produced some 
previous effects. We are thus led to a condition still earlier than 
the assumed beginning ; — to an origin of the original state of the 
universe ; and in this manner we are carried perpetually further 
and further back, through a labyrinth of mechanical causation, 
without any possibility of finding anything in which the mind can 
acquiesce or rest, till we admit " a First Cause which is not 
mechanical." 

Thus the argument which was before urged against those in 
particular, who put forwards the Nebular Hypothesis in opposition 
to the admission of an Intelligent Creator, offers itself again, as 
cogent in itself, when we adopt the opinion of a resisting medium, 
for which the physical proofs have been found to be so strong. 
The argument is indeed forced upon our minds, whatever view we 
take of the past history of the universe. Some have endeavoured 
to evade its force by maintaining that the world as it now exists 
has existed from eternity. They assert that the present order of 
things, or an order of things in some way resembling the present, 
produced by the same causes, governed by the same laws, has pre- 
vailed through an infinite succession of past ages. We shall not 
dwell upon any objections to this tenet which might be drawn from 
our own conceptions, or from what may be called metaphysical 
sources. Nor shall we refer to the various considerations which 
history, geology, and astronomical records supply, and which tend 
to show, not only that the past duration of the present course of 
things is finite, but that it is short, compared with such periods as 
we have had to speak of. But we may observe, that the doctrine 
of a resisting medium once established, makes this imagination un- 
tenable ; compels us to go back to the origin, not only of the present 



MECHANICAL LAWS. 



course of the world, not only of the earth, but of the solar sys- 
tem itself; and thus sets us forth upon that path of research into 
the series of past causation, where we obtain no answer of 
which the meaning corresponds to our questions, till we rest in 
the conclusion of a most provident and most powerful Creating 
Intelligence. 

It is related of Epicurus that when a boy, reading with his pre- 
ceptor these verses of Hesiod, 

Hroi fAiv 7r^<jn<ricdL Xao? yiv&r'', ttwrctp i7rura. 
Tcli' wpvG-ipvcs 7ranTcev iSo$ a<rq<fhis cam 

Eldest of beings, Chaos first arose, 

Thence Earth wide stretched, the steadfast seat of all 

The Immortals, 

the young scholar first betrayed his inquisitive genius by asking 
" And chaos whence ?" when in his riper years he had persuaded 
himself that this question was sufficiently answered by saying that 
chaos arose from the concourse of atoms, it is strange that the 
same inquisitive spirit did not again suggest the question " and 
atoms whence V* And it is clear that however often the question 
" whence ?" had been answered, it would still start up as at first. 
Nor could it suffice as an answer to say, that earth, chaos, atoms, 
were portions of a series of changes w r hich went back to eternity. 
The preceptor of Epicurus informed him, that to be satisfied on 
the subject of his inquiry, he must have recourse to the philosophers. 
If the young speculator had been told that chaos (if chaos indeed 
preceded the present order) was produced by an Eternal Being, in 
whom resided purpose " and will, he would have rece ved a 
suggestion which, duly matured by subsequent contemplation, 
might have led him to a philosophy far more satisfactory than the 
material scheme can ever be, to one who looks, either abroad into 
the universe, or within into his own bosom. 



CHAPTER IX. 

MECHANICAL LAWS. 

In the preceding observations we have supposed the laws, bv 
which different kinds of matter act and are acted upon, to be al- 
ready in existence ; and have endeavoured to point out evidences 
of design and adaptation, displayed in the selection and arrange- 



114 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



merit of these materials of the universe. These materials are, it has 
appeared, supplied in such measures and disposed in such forms, 
that by means of their properties and laws the business of the 
world goes on harmoniously and beneficially. But a further 
question occurs : how came matter to have such properties and 
laws ? Are these also to be considered as things of selection 
and institution 1 And if so, can we trace the reasons why the 
laws were established in their present form ; why the properties 
which matter actually possesses were established and bestowed 
upon it ? We have already attempted, in a previous part of this 
work, to point out some of the advantages which are secured by 
the existing laws of heat, light and moisture. Can we, in the same 
manner, point out the benefits which arise from the present consti- 
tution of those laws of matter which are mainly concerned in the 
production of cosmical phenomena ? 

It will readily be perceived that the discussion of this point must 
necessarily require some effort of abstract thought. The laws and 
properties of which we have here to speak, the laws of motion and 
the universal properties of matter, are so closely interwoven with 
our conceptions of the external world, that we have great difficulty 
in conceiving them not to exist, or to exist other than they are. 
When we press or lift a stone, we can hardly imagine that it 
could, by possibility, do otherwise than resist our effort by its hard- 
ness and by its heaviness, qualities so familiar to us: when we 
throw it, it seems inevitable that its motion should depend on the 
impulse we give, just as we find that it invariably does. 

Nor is it easy to' say how far it is really possible to suppose the 
fundamental attributes of matter to be different from what they are. 
If we, in our thoughts, attempt to divest matter of its powers of re- 
sisting and moving, it ceases to be matter, according to our concep- 
tions, and we can no longer reason upon it with any distinctness. 
And yet it is certain that we can conceive the laws of hardness and 
weight and motion to be quite different from what they are, and can 
point out some of the consequences which would result from such 
difference. The properties of matter, even the most fundamental 
and universal ones, do not obtain by any absolute necessity, resem- 
bling that which belongs to the properties of geometry. A line 
touching a circle is necessarily perpendicular to a line drawn to the 
centre through the point touched ; for it may be shown that the con- 
trary involves a contradiction. But there is no contradiction in 
supposing that a body's motion should naturally diminish, or that its 
weight should increase in removing further from the earth's centre. 

Thus the properties of matter and the laws of motion are what 
we find them, not by virtue of any internal necessity which we can 
understand. The study of such laws and properties may therefore 
disclose to us the character of that external agency by which we 
conceive them to have been determined to be what they are ; and 



MECHANICAL LAWS. 



U5 



this must be the same agency by which all other parts of the con- 
stitution of the universe were appointed and ordered. 

But we can hardly expect, with regard to such subjects, that we 
shall be able to obtain any complete or adequate view of the rea- 
sons why these general laws are so selected, and so established. 
These laws are the universal basis of all operations which go on, 
at any moment, in every part of space, with regard to every parti- 
cle of matter, organic and inorganic. All other laws and proper- 
ties must have a reference to these, and must be influenced by them; 
both such as men have already discovered, and the far greater num- 
ber which remain still unknown. The general economy and mutual 
relations of all parts of the universe, must be subordinate to the 
laws of motion and matter of which we here speak. We can 
easily suppose that the various processes of nature, and the depen- 
dencies of various creatures, are affected in the most comprehensive 
manner by these laws; — are simplified by their simplicity, made 
consistent by their universality ; rendered regular by their symme- 
try. We can easily suppose that in this way there may be the 
most profound and admirable reasons for the existence of the pre- 
sent universal properties of matter, which we cannot apprehend in 
consequence of the limited nature of our knowledge, and of our 
faculties. For, compared with the whole extent of the universe, the 
whole aggregate of things and relations and connexions which 
exist in it, our knowledge is most narrow and partial, most shallow 
and superficial. We cannot suppose, therefore, that the reasons 
which we discover for the present form of the laws of nature go 
nearly to the full extent, or to the bottom of the reasons, which a 
more complete and profound insight would enable us to perceive. 
To do justice to such reasons, would require nothing less than a 
perfect acquaintance with the whole constitution of every part of 
creation ; a knowledge which man has not, and so far as we can 
conceive, never can have. 

We are certain, therefore, that our views, with regard to this part 
of our subject, must be imperfect and limited. Yet still man has 
some knowledge with regard to various portions of nature; and 
with regard to those most general and comparatively simple facts 
to which we now refer, his knowledge is more comprehensive, and 
goes deeper than it does in any other province. We conceive, 
therefore, that we shall not be engaged in any rash or presumptuous 
attempt, if we endeavour to point out some of the advantages w Inch 
are secured by the present constitution of some of the general me- 
chanical laws of nature ; and to suggest the persuasion of that pur- 
pose and wise design, which the selection of such laws will thus 
appear to imply. 



116 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE LAW OF GRAVITATION. 

We shall proceed to make a few observations on the Law of 
Gravity, in virtue of which the motions of planets about the sun, 
and of satellites about their planets take place ; and by which also 
are produced the fall downwards of all bodies within our reach, 
and the pressure which they exert upon their supports when at rest. 
The identification of the latter forces with the former, and the dis- 
covery of the single law by which these forces are every where 
regulated, was the great discovery of Newton : and we wish to 
make it appear that this law is established by an intelligent and 
comprehensive selection. 

The law of the sun's attraction upon the planets is, that this 
attraction varies inversely as the square of the distance ; that is, it 
decreases as that square increases. If we take three points or 
planets of the solar system, the distances of which from the sun are 
in proper proportion 1, 2, 3; the attractive force which the sun at 
these distances exercises, is as 1, l-4th, and l-9th respectively. In 
the smaller variations of distance which occur in the elliptical mo- 
tion of one planet, the variations of the force follow the same law. 
Moreover, not only does the sun attract the planets, but they attract 
each other according to the same law ; the tendency to the earth 
which makes bodies heavy, is one of the effects of this law : and 
all these effects of the attractions of large masses may be traced 
to the attractions of the particles of which they are composed ; so 
that the final generalization, including all the derivative laws, is, that 
every particle of matter in the universe attracts every other, ac- 
cording to the law of the inverse square of the distance. 

Such is the law of universal gravitation. Now, the question is, 
why do either the attractions of masses, or those of their compo- 
nent particles, follow this law of the inverse square of the distance 
rather than any other I When the distance becomes 1, 2, and 3, 
why should not the force also become 1, 2, and 3? — or if it must be 
weaker at points more remote from the attracting body, why should 
it not be 1, a half, a third? or 1, l-8th, l-27th? Such laws could 
easily be expressed mathematically, and their consequences calcu- 
lated. Can any reason be assigned why the law which we find in 
operation must obtain 1 Can any be assigned why it should obtain ? 

The answer to this is, that no reason, at all satisfactory, can be 
given why such a law must, of necessity, be what it is ; but that 
very strong reasons can be pointed out why, for the beauty and ad- 
vantage of the system, the present one is better than others. We 
will point out some of these reasons. 



LAW OF GRAVITATION. 



117 



1. In the first place, the system could not have subsisted, if the 
force had followed a direct instead of an inverse law, with respect 
to the distance; that is, if it had increased when the distance in- 
creased. It has been sometimes said, that " all direct laws of force 
are excluded on account of the danger from perturbing forces :"■ 
that if the planets had pulled at this earth, the harder the°further oil' 
they were, they would have dragged it entirely out of its coin s*;. 
This is not an exact statement of what would happen : if the force 
were to be simply in the direct ratio of the distance, any number of 
planets might revolve in the most regular and orderly manner. 
Their mutual effects, which we may call perturbations if we please, 
would be considerable ; but these perturbations would be so com- 
bined with the unperturbed motion, as to produce a new motion not 
less regular than the other. This curious result would follow, that 
every body in the system would describe, or seem to describe, about 
every other, an exact elliptical orbit ; and that the times of the re- 
volution of every body in its orbit would be all equal. This is 
proved by Newton, in the 64th proposition of the Principia. There 
would be nothing to prevent all the planets, on this supposition, from 
moving round the sun in orbits exactly circular, or nearly circular, 
according to the mode in which they were set in motion. 

But though the perturbations of the system would not make this 
law inadmissible, there are other circumstances which would do so. 
Under this law, the gravity of bodies at the earth's surface would 
cease to exist. Nothing would fall or weigh downwards. The greater 
action of the distant sun and planets would exactly neutralize the 
gravity of the earth : a ball thrown from the hand, however gently, 
would immediately become a satellite of the earth, and would for the 
future accompany it in its course, revolving about it in the space of 
one year. All terrestrial things would float about with no principle 
of coherence or stability : they would ohey the general law of the 
system, but would acknowledge no particular relation to the earth. 
We can hardly pretend to judg : e of the abstract possibility of such a 
system of things ; but it is clear that it could not exist without an 
utter subversion of all that we can conceive of the economy and 
structure of the world which we inhabit. 

With any other direct law of force, we should in like manner lose 
gravity, without gaining the theoretical regularity of the planet- 
ary motions which we have described in the case just considered. 

2. Among inverse laws of the distance, (that is those according to 
which the force diminishes as the distance from the origin oi force 
increases,) all which diminish the central force faster than the cubi 
of the distance increases are inadmissible, because they are incom- 
patible with the permanent revolution of a planet. Under such laws 
it would follow, that a planet would describe a spiral line about the 



* Puley. 
11 



118 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



sun, and would either approach nearer to him perpetually, or perpe- 
tually go further off: nearly as a stone at the end of a string, when 
the string is whirled round, and is allowed to wrap round the hand, 
or to unrap from it, approaches to or recedes from the hand. 

If we endeavour to compare the law of the inverse square of the 
distance, which really regulates the central force, with other laws, 
not obviously inadmissible, as for instance, the inverse simple ratio of 
the distance, a considerable quantity of calculation is found to be neces- 
sary in order to trace the results, and especially the perturbations in 
the two cases. These perturbations in the supposed case have not 
been calculated ; such a calculation being a process so long and la- 
borious that it is never gone through, except for the purpose of com- 
paring the results of theory with those of observation, as we can do 
with regard to the law of inverse square. We can only say, there- 
fore, that the stability of the system, and the moderate limits of the 
perturbations, which we know to be secured by the existing law, 
would not, so far as we know, be obtained by any different law. 

Without going into further examination of the subject, we may 
observe that there are some circumstances in which the present sys- 
tem has a manifest superiority in its simplicity over the condition 
which would have belonged to it if the force had followed any other 
law. Thus, with the present law of gravitation the planets revolve, 
returning perpetually on the same track, very nearly. The earth 
describes an oval, in consequence of which motion she is nearer to 
the sun in our winter than in our summer by about one thirtieth part 
of the whole distance. And, as the matter now is, the nearest ap- 
proach to the sun, and the farthest recess from him, occur always at 
the same points of the orbit. There is indeed a slight alteration in 
these points arising from disturbing forces, but this is hardly sensible 
in the course of several ages. Now if the force had followed any 
other law, we should have had the earth running perpetually on a 
new track. The greatest and least distances would have occurred 
at different parts in every successive revolution. The orbit would 
have perpetually intersected and been interlaced with the path de- 
scribed in former revolutions; and the simplicity and regularity 
which characterises the present motion would have been quite 
wanting. 

3. Another peculiar point of simplicity in the present law of mu- 
tual attraction is this : that it makes the law of attraction for spheri- 
cal masses the same as for single particles. If particles attract with 
forces which are inversely as the square of the distance, spheres com- 
posed of such particles, will exert a force which follows the same 
law. In this character the present law is singular, among all possi- 
ble laws, excepting that of the direct distance which we have already 
discussed. If the law of the gravitation of particles had been that 
of the inverse simple distance, the attraction of a sphere would have 
been expressed by a complex series of mathematical expressions, 



LAW OF GRAVITATION". 



Ill) 



each representing a simple law. It is truly remarkable that theJaw 
of the inverse square of the distance, which appears to be selected 
as that of the masses of the system, and of which the mechanism is, 
that it arises from the action of the particles of the system, should 
lead us to the same law for the action of these particles : there is a 
striking prerogative of simplicity in the law thus adopted. 

The law of gravitation actually prevailing in the solar system has 
thus great and clear advantages over any law widely different from it; 
and has moreover, in many of its consequences, a simplicity which 
belongs to this precise law alone. It is in many such respects a 
unique law ; and when we consider that it possesses several properties 
which are peculiar to it, and several advantages which may be pecu- 
liar to it, and which are certainly nearly so; we have some ground, 
it would appear, to look upon its peculiarities and its advantages as 
connected. For the reasons mentioned in the last chapter, we can 
hardly expect to see fully the way in which the system is benefited 
by the simplicity of this law, and by the mathematical elegance of 
its consequences : but when we see that it has some such beauties, 
and some manifest benefits, we may easily suppose that our ignorance 
and limited capacity alone prevent our seeing that there are, for the 
selection of this law of force, reasons of a far more refined and com- 
prehensive kind than we can distinctly apprehend. 

4. But before quitting this subject we may offer a few further ob- 
servations on the question, whether gravitation and the law of gravi- 
tation be necessary attributes of matter. We have spoken of the 
selection of this law, but is it selected ? Could it have been otherwise ! 
Is not the force of attraction a necessary consequence of the funda- 
mental properties of matter? 

This is a question which has been much agitated among the fol- 
lowers of Newton. Some have maintained, as Cotes, that gravity is 
an inherent property of all matter ; others, with Newton himself, have 
considered it as an appendage to the essential qualities of matter, and 
have proposed hypotheses to account for the mode in which its effects 
are produced. 

The result of all that can be said on the subject appears to be this : 
that no one can demonstrate the possibility of deducing gravity from 
the acknowledged fundamental properties of matter : and that no phi- 
losopher asserts, that matter has been found to exist, which was des- 
titute of gravity. It is a property which we have no right to call 
necessary to matter, but every reason to suppose universal. 

If we could show gravity to be a necessary consequence oi those 
properties which we adopt as essential to our notion of matter, (ex- 
tension, soliditv, mobility, inertia) we might then call it also one oi 
the essential properties.* But no one probably will assert thai this is 
the case. Its universality is a fact of observation merely. How then 
can a property,— in its existence so needful for the support oi the uni- 
verse, in its laws so well adapted to the purposes of creation,— hOVI 



120 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



came it to be thus universal ? Its being found everywhere is neces- 
sary for its uses ; but this is so far from being a sufficient explanation 
of its existence, that it is an additional fact to be explained. We 
have here, then, an agency most simple in its rule, most comprehen- 
sive in its influence, most effectual and admirable in its operation. 
What evidence could be afforded of design, by laws of mechanical 
action, which this law thus existing and thus operating does not af- 
ford us? 

5. It is not necessary for our purpose to consider the theories 
which have been proposed to account for the action of gravity. They 
have proceeded on the plan of reducing this action to the result of 
pressure or impulse. Even if such theories could be established, they 
could not much, or at all, affect our argument ; for the arrange- 
ments by which pressure or impact could produce the effects which 
gravity produces, must be at least as clearly results of contrivance, 
as gravity itself can be. 

In fact, however, none of these attempts can be considered as at 
all successful. That of Newton is very remarkable : it is found 
among the Queries in the second edition of his Optics. " To show," 
he says, " that I do not take gravity for an essential property of bo- 
dies, I have added one question concerning its cause, choosing to 
propose it by way of question, because I am not yet satisfied about 
it for want of experiments." The hypothesis which he thus suggests 
is, that there is an elastic medium pervading all space, and increasing 
in elasticity as we proceed from dense bodies outwards : that this 
" causes the gravity of such dense bodies to each other : every body 
endeavouring to go from the denser parts of the medium towards 
the rarer." Of this hypothesis we may venture to say, that it is in the 
first place quite gratuitous ; we cannot trace in any other phenomena 
a medium possessing these properties : and in the next place, that 
the hypothesis contains several suppositions which are more complex 
than the fact to be explained, and none which are less so. Can we, 
on Newton's principles conceive an elastic medium otherwise than 
as a collection of particles, repelling each other? and is the repul- 
sion of such particles a simpler fact than the attraction of those 
w 7 hich gravitate ? And when we suppose that the medium becomes 
more elastic as we proceed from each attracting body, what cause 
can we conceive capable of keeping it in such a condition, except a 
repulsive force emanating from the body itself : a supposition at least 
as much requiring to be accounted for, as the attraction of the body. 
It does not appear, then, that this hypothesis will bear examination ; 
although, for our purpose, the argument would be rather strengthened 
than weakened, if it could be established. 

6. Another theory of the cause of gravity, which at one time ex- 
cited considerable notice, was that originally proposed by M. Le 
Sage, in a memoir entitled " Lucrece Newtonien," and further illus- 
trated by M. Prevost ; according to which all space is occupied by 



LAW OF GRAVITATION. 



121 



currents of matter, moving perpetually in straight lines, in all direc- 
tions, with a vast velocity, and penetrating all bodies. When two 
bodies are near each other, they intercept the current which would 
flow in the intermediate space if they were not there, and thus re- 
ceive a tendency towards each other from the pressure of the cur- 
rents on their farther sides. Without examining further this curious 
and ingenious hypothesis, we may make upon it the same kind of 
observations as before; — that it is perfectly gratuitous, except as a 
means of explaining the phenomena ; and that, if it were proved, 
it would still remain to be shown what necessity has caused the ex- 
istence of these two kinds of matter; the first kind being that which 
is commonly called matter, and which alone affects our senses, while 
it is inert as to any tendency to motion ; the second kind being some- 
thing imperceptible to our senses, except by the effects it produce- 
on matter of the former kind; yet exerting an impulse on every ma- 
terial body, permeating every portion of common matter, flowing 
with inconceivable velocity, in inexhaustible abundance, from every 
part of the abyss of infinity on one side, to the opposite part of the 
same abyss ; and so constituted that through all eternity it can never 
bend its path, or return, or tarry in its course. 

If we were to accept this theory, it would little or nothing dimi- 
nish our wonder at the structure of the universe. We might well 
continue to admire the evidence of contrivance, if such a machinery 
should be found to produce all the effects which flow from the law 
of gravitation. 

7. The arguments for and against the necessity of the law of the 
inverse square of the distance in the force of gravity, were discussed 
with great animation about the middle of the last century. Clairault, 
an eminent mathematician, who did more than almost any othe r 
person for the establishment and developement of the Newtonian 
doctrines, maintained, at one period of his researches, not only that 
the inverse square was not the necessarij law, but also that it was 
not the true law. The occasion of this controversy was somewhat 
curious. 

Newton and other astronomers had found that the line of the 
moon's apsides (that is of her greatest and least, distances from the 
earth) moves round to different parts of the heavens with a velocity 
twice as great as that which the calculation from the law oi gral - 
tation seems at first to give. According to the theory, it appear* d 
that this line ought to move round once in eighteen years; accord- 
ing to observation, it moves round once in nine years. This dif- 
ference, the onlv obvious failure of the theory of gravitation, embar- 
rassed mathematicians exceedingly. It is true, it was afterwards 
discovered that the apparent discrepancy arose from a mistake ; the 
calculation, which is long and laborious, was supposed to have been 
carried far enough to get close to the truth; but it appeared atte - 
wards that the residue which had been left out as insignificant, pro- 

11 * 



122 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



duced, by an unexpected turn in the reckoning, an effect as large as 
that which had been taken for the whole. But this discovery was 
not made till afterwards ; and in the mean time the law of the in- 
verse square appeared to be at fault. Clairault tried to remedy the 
defect by supposing that the force of the earth's gravity consisted of 
a large force varying as the square of the distance, and a very small 
force varying as the fourth power (the square of the square.) By 
such a supposition, observation and theory could be reconciled ; but 
on the suggestion of it, Buffon came forward with the assertion that 
the force could not vary according to any other law than the inverse 
square. His arguments are rather metaphysical than physical or 
mathematical. Gravity, he urges, is a quality, an emanation ; and 
all emanations are inversely as the square of the distance, as light, 
odours. To this Clairault replies by asking, how we know that 
light and odours have their intensity inversely as the square of the 
distance from their origin : not, he observes, by measuring the in- 
tensity, but by supposing these effects to be material emanations. 
But who, he asks, supposes gravity to be a material emanation from 
the attracting body. 

Buffon again pleads that so many facts prove the law of the in- 
verse square, that a single one, which occurs to interfere with this 
agreement, must be in some manner capable of being explained 
away. Clairault replies, that the facts do not prove this law to ob- 
tain exactly; that small effects, of the same order as the one under 
discussion, have been neglected ; and that therefore the law is only 
known to be true, as far as such an approximation goes, and no 
farther. 

Buffon then argues, that there can be no such additional fraction 
of the force, following a different law, as Clairault supposes : for 
what, he asks, is there to determine the magnitude of the fraction to 
one amount rather than another? why should nature select for it 
any particular magnitude ? To this it is replied, that, whether we 
can explain the fact or not, nature does select certain magnitudes in 
preference to others : that where we ascertain she does this, we are 
not to deny the fact because we cannot assign the grounds of her 
preference. What is there, it is asked, to determine the magnitude 
of the whole force at any fixed distance? We cannot tell; yet the 
force is of a certain definite intensity and no other. 

Finally Clairault observes, that we have, in cohesion, capillary at- 
traction, and various other cases, examples of forces varying ac- 
cording to other laws than the inverse square ; and that therefore this 
cannot be the only possible law. 

The discrepancy between observation and theory which gave rise 
to this controversy was removed, as has been already stated, by a 
more exact calculation : and thus, as Laplace observes, in this case 
the metaphysician turned out to be right and the mathematician to 
be wrong. But most persons, probably, who are familiar with such 



THE LAWS OF MOTION. 



123 



trains of speculation, will allow, that Clairault had the best of the 
argument, and that the attempts to show the law of gravitation to 
be necessarily what it is, are fallacious and unsound. 

8. We may observe, however, that the law of gravitation accord- 
ing to the inverse square of the distance, which thus regulates the 
motions of the solar system, is not confined to that province of the 
universe, as has been shown by recent researches. It appears by the 
observations and calculations of Sir John Herschel, that several of the 
stars, called double stars, consist of a pair of luminous bodies which 
revolve above each other in ellipses, in such a manner as to show 
that the force, by which they are attracted to each other, varies ac- 
cording to the law of the inverse square. We thus learn a remark- 
able fact concerning bodies which seemed so far removed that no 
effort of our science could reach them ; and we find that the same 
law of mutual attraction which we have before traced to the farthest 
bounds of the solar system, prevails also in spaces at a distance 
compared with which the orbit of Saturn shrinks into a point. The 
establishment of such a truth certainly suggests, as highly probable, 
the prevalence of this law among all the bodies of the universe. And 
we may therefore suppose, that the same ordinance which gave to 
the parts of our system that rule by which they fulfil the purposes of 
their creation, impressed the same rule on the other portions of mat- 
ter which are scattered in the most remote parts of the universe ; 
and thus gave to their movements the same grounds of simplicity 
and harmony which we find reason to admire, as far as we can ac- 
quire any knowledge of our own more immediate neighbourhood. 



CHAPTER XL 

THE LAWS OF MOTION. 

We shall now make a few remarks on the general Laws of Mo- 
tion by which all mechanical effects take place. Are we to consider 
these as instituted laws 1 and if so, can we point out any of the rea- 
sons which we may suppose to have led to the selection ol those laws 
which really exist? 

The observations formerly made concerning the inevitable nar- 
rowness and imperfection of our conclusions on such subjects, applj 
here, even more stronglv than in the case of the law of gravitation. 
We can hardly conceive matter divested of these laws ; and we can- 
not perceive or trace a millionth part of the effects which they pro- 
duce. We cannot, therefore, expect to go far in pointing out the 
advantages of these laws such as they now obtain. 



124 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



It would be easy to show that the fundamental laws of motion, in 
whatever form we state them, possess a very pre-eminent simplicity, 
compared with almost all others, which we might imagine as exist- 
ing. This simplicity has indeed produced an effect on men's minds 
which, though delusive, appears to be very natural ; several writers 
have treated these laws as self-evident, and necessarily flowing from 
the nature of our conceptions. We conceive that this is an erroneous 
view, and that these laws are known to us to be what they are, by 
experience only ; that they might, so far as we can discern, have 
been any others. They appear therefore to be selected for their fit- 
ness to answer their purposes ; and we may, perhaps, be able to point 
out some instances in which this fitness is apparent to us. 

Newton, and many English plilosophers, teach the existence of 
three separate fundamental laws of motion, while most of the eminent 
mathematicians of France reduce these to two, the law of inertia and 
the law that force is proportional to velocity. As an example of the 
views which we wish to illustrate, we may take the law of inertia, 
which is identical with Newton's first Law of Motion. This law as- 
serts, that a body at rest continues at rest, and that a body in motion 
goes on moving with its velocity and direction unchanged, except so 
far as it is acted on by extraneous forces.* 

We conceive that this law, simple and universal as it is, cannot be 
shown to be necessarily true. It might be difficult to discuss this 
point in general terms with any clearness; but let us take the only 
example which we know of a motion absolutely uniform, in conse- 
quence of the absence of any force to accelerate or retard it ; — this 
motion is the rotation of the earth on its axis. 

1. It is scarcely possible that discussions on such subjects should 
not have a repulsive and scholastic aspect, and appear like disputes 
about words rather than things. For mechanical writers have ex- 
ercised all their ingenuity so as to circumscribe their notions and so 
to define their terms that these fundamental truths should be expressed 
in the simplest manner : the consequence of which has been, that they 
have been made to assume the appearance rather of identical asser- 
tions than of general facts of experience^ But in order to avoid this 
inconvenience, as far as may be, let us take the first law of motion as 
exemplified in a particular case, the rotation of the earth. Of all the 
motions with which we are acquainted this is alone invariable. Each 
day, measured by the passages of the stars, is so precisely of the 
same length that, according to Laplace's calculations, it is impossi- 

* If the Laws of Motion are stated as three, which we conceive to be the true 
view of the subject, the other two, as applied in mechanical reasonings, are the fol- 
lowing : 

Second Law. When a force acts on a body in motion, it produces the same effect 
as if the same force acted on a body at rest. 

Third Law. When a force of the nature of pressure produces motion, the velo- 
city produced is proportional to the force, other things being equal. 



THE LAWS OF MOTION". 



125 



ble that a difference of one-hundredth of a second of time should 
have obtained between the length of the day in the earliest ages and 
at the present time. Now why is this 1 How is this very remarka- 
ble uniformity preserved in this particular phenomenon, while all the 
other motions of the system are subject to inequalities ? How is it 
that in the celestial machine no retardation takes place by the lapse of 
time, as would be the case in any machine which it would be possi- 
ble for human powers to construct 1 The answer is, that in the earth's 
revolution on her axis no cause operates to retard the speed, like the 
imperfection of materials, the friction of supports, the resistance of 
the ambient medium ; impediments which cannot, in any human me- 
chanism, however perfect, be completely annihilated. "But here we 
are led to ask again, why should the speed continue the same when 
not affected by an extraneous cause ? why should it not languish and 
decay of itself by the mere lapse of time? That it might do so, in- 
volves no contradiction, for it was the common, though erroneous, 
belief of all mechanical speculators, to the time of Galileo. We can 
conceive velocity to diminish in proceeding from a certain point of 
time, as easily as we can conceive force to diminish in proceeding 
from a certain point of space, which in attractive forces really oc- 
curs. But, it is sometimes said, the motion (that is the velocity) must 
continue the same from one instant to another, for there is nothing to 
change it. This appears to be taking refuge in words. We may 
call the velocity, that is the speed of a body, its motion ; but we 
cannot, by giving it this name, make it a thing which has any a 
priori claim to permanence, much less any self-evident constancy. 
Why must the speed of a body, left to itself, continue the same, any 
more than its temperature. Hot bodies grow cooler of themselves, 
why should not quick bodies go slower of themselves? Why must 
a body describe 1000 feet in the next second because it has described 
1000 feet in the last? Nothing but experience, under proper circum- 
stances, can inform us whether bodies, abstracting from external 
agency, do move according to such a rule. We find that they do 
so, w T e learn that all diminution of their speed which ever takes 
place, can be traced to external causes. Contrary to all that men 
had guessed, motion appears to be of itself endless and unwearied. 
In order to account for the unalterable permanence of the length of 
our day, all that is requisite is to show that there is no let or hin- 
drance in the way of the earth's rotation;— no resisting medium or 
alteration of size,— she " spinning sleeps" on her axle, as the poet ex- 
presses it, and may go on sleeping with the same regularity for ever, 
so far as the experimental properties of motion are concerned. 

Such is the necessary consequence of the first law of motion ; but 
the law itself has no necessary existence, so far as we ran see. II 
was discovered only after various perplexities and false conjectures 
of speculators on mechanics. We have learnt that it is so, but we 
have not learnt, nor can any one undertake to teach us, that it most 



126 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



have been so. For aught we can tell, it is one among a thousand 
equally possible laws, which might have regulated the motions of 
bodies. 

2. But though we have thus no reason to consider this as the only 
possible law, we have good reason to consider it as the best, or at 
least as possessing all that we can conceive of advantage. It is the 
simplest conceivable of such laws. If the velocity had been com- 
pelled to change with the time, there must have been a law of the 
change, and the kind and amount of this change must have been de- 
termined by its dependence on the time and other conditions. This, 
though quite supposable, would undoubtedly have been more com- 
plex than the present state of things. And though complexity does not 
appear to embarrass the operations of the laws of nature, and is ad- 
mitted, without scruple, when there is reason for it, simplicity is the 
usual character of such laws, and appears to have been a ground of 
selection in the formation of the universe, as it is a mark of beauty 
to us in our contemplation of it. 

But there is a still stronger apparent reason for the selection 
of this law of the preservation of motion. If the case had been 
otherwise, the universe must necessarily in the course of ages 
have been reduced to a state of rest, or at least to a state not 
sensibly differing from it. If the earth's motion, round its axis, 
had slackened by a very small quantity, for instance, by a hundredth 
of a second in a revolution, and in this proportion continued, the 
day would have been already lengthened by six hours in the 6000 
years which have elapsed since the history of the world began ; 
and if we suppose a longer period to precede or to follow, the 
day might be increased to a month or to any length. All the adap- 
tations which depend on the length of the day would consequently 
be deranged. But this would not be all; for the same law of 
motion is equally requisite for the preservation of the annual 
motion of the earth. If her motion were retarded by the esta- 
blishment of any other law instead of the existing one, she would 
wheel nearer and nearer to the sun at every revolution, and at last 
reach the centre, like a falling hoop. The same would happen 
to the other planets ; and the whole solar system would, in the 
course of a certain period, be gathered into a heap of matter 
without life or motion. ' In the present state of things on the other 
hand, the system, as we have already explained, is, by a combination 
of remarkable provisions, calculated for an almost indefinite ex- 
istence, of undiminished fitness for its purposes. 

There are, therefore, manifest reasons, why, of all laws which 
could occupy the place of the first law of motion, the one which 
now obtains is the only one consistent with the durability and uni- 
formity of the system ; — the one, therefore, which we may naturally 
conceive to be selected by a wise contriver. And as, along with 
this, it has appeared that we have no sort of right to attribute the 



FlUCTIOiV. 127 

establishment of this law to anything but selection, we have here 
a striking evidence, to lead us to a perception of that Divine 
mind, by which means so simple are made to answer pun 
so extensive and so beneficial. 



CHAPTER XII. 

FRICTION.* 

_ We shall not pursue this argument of the last chapter, by con- 
sidering the other laws of motion in the same manner as we have 
there considered the first, which might be done. But the facta 
which form exceptions and apparent contradictions to the first law 
of which we have been treating, and which are very numerous, 
offer, we conceive, an additional exemplification of the same argu- 
ment ; and this we shall endeavour to illustrate. 

The rule that a body naturally moves forever with an undiminished 
speed, is so far from being obviously true, that it appears on a 
first examination to be manifestly false. The hoop of the school 
boy, left to itself, runs on a short distance, and then stops ; his top 
spins a little while, but finally flags and falls; all motion on the 
earth appears to decay by its own nature ; all matter which we 
move appears to have a perpetual tendency to divest itself of the 
velocity which we communicate to it. How is this recbncileable 
with the first law of motion on which we have been insisting ' 

It is reconciled principally by considering the effect of Friction. 
Among terrestrial objects friction exerts an agency almost as uni- 
versal and constant as the laws of motion themselves ; an agency 
which completely changes and disguises the results of those laws. 
We shall consider some of these effects. 

It is probably not necessary to explain at any length the nature 
and operation of friction. When a body cannot move without 
causing two surfaces to rub together, this rubbing has a tendency to 
diminish the body's motion or to prevent it entirely. IT the body 
of a carriage be placed on the earth without the wheels, a con- 
siderable force will be requisite in order to move it at all : it is 
here the friction against the ground which obstructs the motion, l!" 
the carriage be placed on its wheels, a much less force will move 

* Though Friction is not concerned in any cosmical phenomena, wo have thought 
this the proper place to introduce the consideration of it; since the contrast between 
the cases in which it does act, and those in which it does not, is best illustrated !>y B 
comparison of cosmical with terrestrial motions. 



128 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



it, but if moved it will soon stop : it is the friction at the ground 
and at the axles which stops it: placed on a level rail road, 
with well made and well oiled wheels, and once put in motion, 
it might run a considerable distance alone, for the friction is here 
much less; but there is friction, and therefore the motion would after 
a time cease. 

1. The friction which we shall principally consider is the friction 
which prevents motion. So employed, friction is one of the most 
universal and important agents in the mechanism of our daily 
comforts and occupations. It is a force which is called into play 
to an extent incomparably greater than all the other forces with 
which we are concerned in the course of our daily life. We are 
dependent upon it at every instant and in every action : and it 
is not possible to enumerate the ways in which it serves us ; scarcely 
even to suggest a sufficient number of them to give us a true 
notion of its functions. 

What can appear a more simple operation than standing and 
walking 1 yet it is easy to see that without the aid of friction these 
simple actions would scarcely be possible. Every one knows how 
difficult and dangerous they are when performed on smooth ice. 
In such a situation we cannot always succeed in standing : if the 
ice be very smooth, it is by no means easy to walk, even when the 
surface is perfectly level ; and if it were ever so little inclined, no one 
would make the attempt. Yet walking on the ice and on the ground 
differ only in our experiencing more friction in the latter case. We 
say more, for there is a considerable friction even in the case of 
ice, as we see by the small distance which a stone slides when 
thrown along the surface. It is this friction of the earth which, 
at every step we take, prevents the foot from sliding back ; and 
thus allows us to push the body and the other foot forwards. And 
when we come to violent bodily motions, to running, leaping, pulling 
or pushing objects, it is easily seen how entirely we depend upon the 
friction of the ground for our strength and force. Every one knows 
how completely powerless we become in any of these actions by 
the foot slipping. 

In the same manner it is the friction of objects to which the hand 
is applied, which enables us to hold them with any degree of firm- 
ness. In some contests it was formerly the custom for the comba- 
tants to rub their bodies with oil, that the adversary might not be 
able to keep his grasp. If the pole of the boatman, the rope of 
the sailor, were thus smooth and lubricated, how weak would be 
the thrust and the pull ! Yet this would only be the removal of 
friction. 

Our buildings are no less dependent on this force for their stability. 
Some edifices are erected without the aid of cement ; and if the 
stones be large and well squared, such structures may be highly 
substantial and durable ; even when rude and slight, houses so built 



PRICTIOX. 



129 



answer the purposes of life. These are entirely upheld by friction, 
and without that agent they would be thrown down by the Zephyr, 
far more easily than if all the stones were lumps of ice with a 
thawing surface. But even in cases where cement binds the masonry, 
o duty of holdziz^ it together. In consequence of 
the existence of friction, there is no constant tendency of th ! 
stones to separate ; they are in a state of repose. If this were nol d, 
if every shock and every breeze required to be counteracted by the 
cement, no composition exists which would long sustain such a wear 
and tear. The cement excludes the corroding elements, and helps 
to resist extraordinary violence ; but it is friction which gives the 
habitual state of rest. 

We are not to consider friction as a small force, slightly modi- 
fying the effects of other agencies. On the contrary its amoi n : 3 
in most cases very great. When a body lies loose on the ground, 
the friction is equal to one third or one half, in some cases the v. 
of its weight. But in cases of bodies supported by oblique pres 
the amount is far more enormous. In the arch of a bridge, the 
friction which is called into play between two of the vaulting stones 
may be equal to the whole weight of the bridge. In such cases 
this conservative force is so great, that the common theory, which 
neglects it, does not help us even to guess what will take place. 
According to the theory, certain forms of arches only will stand, 
but in practice almost any form will stand, and it is not easy to 
construct a model of a bridge which will fall. 

We may see the great force of friction in the brake, by which a 
large weight running down a long inclined plane has its motion 
moderated and stopped ; in the windlass, where a few coils of the rope 
round a cylinder sustain the stress and weight of a large iron an- 
chor ; in the nail or screw which holds together large beams ; in 
the mode of raising large blocks of granite by an iron" rod driven 
into a hole in the stone. Probably no greater forces are exercised 
in any processes in the arts than the force of friction ; and it is 
always employed to produce rest, stability, moderate motion, 
ing always ready and never wearied, always at hand and augment- 
ed with the exigency, it regulates, controls, subdues all motions; — 
counteracts all other agents; — and finally gains the mastery over 
all other terrestrial agencies, however violent, frequent, or long con- 
tinued. The perpetual action of all other terrestrial forces appears, 
On a large scale, only as so many interruptions of the constant and 
stationary rule of friction. 

The objects which every where surround us, the books or dishes 
which stand on our tables, our tables and chairs themselves, the 
loose clods and stones in the field, the heaviest masses produced by 
nature or art, would be in a perpetual motion, quick or slow accord- 
ing to the forces which acted on them, and to their siz J, ii ll were 
not for the tranquillizing and stead ving effects of the agenl we are 

12 



130 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



considering. Without this, our apartments, if they kept their shape, 
would exhibit to us articles of furniture, and of all other kinds, 
sliding and creeping from side to side with every push and every 
wind, like loose objects in a ship's cabin, when she is changing her 
course in a gale. 

Here, then, we have a force, most extensive and incessant in its 
operation, which is absolutely essential to the business of this terres- 
trial world, according to any notion which we can form. The 
more any one considers its effects, and the more he will find how 
universally dependent he is upon it, in every action of his life ; rest- 
ing or moving, dealing with objects of art or of nature, with instru- 
ments of enjoyment or of action. 

2. Now we have to observe concerning this agent, Friction, that 
we have no ground for asserting it to be a necessary result of other 
properties of matter, for instance, of their solidity and coherency. 
Philosophers have not been able to deduce the laws of friction from 
the other known properties of matter, nor even to explain what we 
know experimentally of such laws, (which is not much,) without in- 
troducing new hypotheses concerning the surfaces of bodies, &c. — 
hypotheses which are not supplied us by any other set of phe- 
nomena. So far as our knowledge goes, friction is a separate pro- 
perty, and may be conceived to have been bestowed upon matter 
for particular purposes. How well it answers the purpose of fitting 
matter for the uses of the daily life of man, w r e have already seen. 

We may make suppositions as to the mode in which friction is 
connected with the texture of bodies ; but little can be gained for 
philosophy, or for speculation of any kind, by such conjectures re- 
specting unknown connexions. If, on the other hand, we consider 
this property of friction, and find that it prevails there, and there 
only, where the general functions, analogies, and relations of the 
universe require it, we shall probably receive a strong impression 
that it was introduced into the system of the world for a purpose. 

3. It is very remarkable that this force, which is thus so effica- 
cious and discharges such important offices in all earthly mechanism, 
disappears altogether when we turn to the mechanism of the hea- 
vens. All motions on the earth soon stop ; — a machine which imi- 
tates the movements of the stars cannot go long without winding up : 
but the stars themselves have gone on in their courses for ages, with 
no diminution of their motions, and offer no obvious prospect of 
any change. This is so palpable a fact, that the first attempts of 
men to systematise their mechanical notions were founded upon it. 
The ancients held that motions were to be distinguished into natural 
motions and violent, — the former go on without diminution — the lat- 
ter are soon extinguished ; — the motions of the stars are of the 
former kind ; — those of a stone thrown, and in short all terrestrial 
motions, of the latter. Modern philosophers maintain that the laws 
of motion are the same for celestial and terrestrial bodies ; — that all 



FRICTION 1 ". 



131 



potions are natural according to the above description ;— but that 
in terrestrial motions friction comes in and alters their character.— 
destroys them so speedily that they appear to have existed onlv du- 
ring an effort. And that this is the case will not now be contested. 
Is it not then somewhat remarkable that the same laws which pro- 
duce a state of permanent motion in the heavens, should, on the 
earth, give rise to a condition in which rest is the rule and motion 
the exception? The air, the waters, and the lighter portion, of 
matter are, no doubt, in a state of perpetual motion; over these 
friction has no empire : yet even their motions are interrupted, alter- 
nate, variable, and on the whole slight deviations from the condition 
of equilibrium. But in the solid parts of the globe, rest predomi- 
nates incomparably over motion: and this, not only with regard to 
the portions which cohere as parts of the same solid; for the whole 
surface of the- earth is covered with loose masses, which, if the 
power of friction were abolished, would rush from their places and 
begin one universal and interminable dance, which would make the 
earth absolutely uninhabitable. 

If, on the other hand, the dominion of friction were extended in 
any considerable degree into the planetary spaces, there would soon 
be an end of the system. If the planet had moved in a fluid, as the 
Cartesians supposed, and if this fluid had been subject to the rules 
of friction which prevail in terrestrial fluids, their motions could not 
have been of long duration. The solar system must soon have 
ceased to be a system of revolving bodies. 

But friction is neither abolished on the earth, nor active in the 
heavens. It operates where it is wanted, it is absent where it 
would be prejudicial. And both these circumstances occasion, in a 
remarkable manner, the -steadiness of the course of nature. The 
stable condition of the objects in man's immediate neighbourhood, 
and th« unvarying motions of the luminaries of heaven, are alike 
conducive to his well-being. This requires that he should be able 
to depend upon a fixed order of place, a fixed course of time. It 
requires, therefore, that terrestrial objects should be affected by fric- 
tion, and that celestial should not; as is the case, in fact. What 
further evidence of benevolent design could this part of the con- 
stitution of the universe supply 1 

4. There is another view which may be taken of the forces which 
operate on the earth to produce permanency or change. Some 
parts of the terrestrial system are under the dominion of powers 
which act energetically to prevent all motion, as the crystalline 
forces by which the parts of rocks are bound together; other parts 
are influenced by powers which produce a perpetual movement and 
change in the matter of which they consist; thus plants and ani- 
mals are in a constant state of internal movement, by the agency 
of the vital forces. In the former case rigid immutability, in the 
latter perpetual developement, are the tendencies of the agencies 



132 



COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



employed. Now in the case of objects affected by friction, we have 
a kind of intermediate condition, between the constantly fixed and the 
constantly moveable. Such objects can and do move ; but they move 
but for a short time if left to the laws of nature. When at rest, they can 
easily be put in motion, but still not with unlimited ease ; a certain 
finite effort, different in different cases, is requisite for their purpose. 
Now this immediate condition, this capacity of receiving readily 
and alternately the states of rest and motion, is absolutely requisite 
for the nature of man, for the exertion of will, of contrivance, of 
foresight, as well as for the comfort of life and the conditions of our 
material existence. If all objects were fixed and immoveable, 
as if frozen into one mass ; or if they were susceptible of such mo- 
tions only as are found in the parts of vegetables, we attempt in 
vain to conceive what would come of the business of the world, 
But besides the state of a particle which cannot be moved, and of 
a particle which cannot be stopped, we have the state of a particle 
moveable but not moved; or moved, but moved only while we 
choose : and this state is that about which the powers, the thoughts, 
and the wants of man are mainly conversant. 

Thus the forces by which solidity and by which organic action 
are produced, the laws of permanence and of developement, do not 
bring about all that happens. Besides these, there is a mechanical 
condition, that of a body exposed to friction, which is neither one 
of absolute permanency nor one naturally progressive ; but is yet 
one absolutely necessary to make material objects capable of being 
instruments and aids to man ; and this is the condition of by far the 
greater part of terrestrial things. The habitual course of events 
with regard to motion and rest is not the same for familiar move- 
able articles, as it is for the parts of the mineral, or of the vegetable 
world, when left to themselves ; such articles are in a condition far 
better adapted than any of those other conditions would be, to their 
place and purpose. Surely this show T s us an adaptation, and adjust- 
ment, of the constitution of the material world to the nature of man. 
And as the organization of plants cannot be conceived otherwise 
than as having their life and growth for its object, so we cannot 
conceive that friction should be one of the leading agencies in the 
world in which man is placed, without supposing that it was intended 
to be of use when man should walk and run, and build houses and 
ships, and bridges, and execute innumerable other processes, all of 
which would be impossible, admirably constituted as man is in other 
respects, if friction did not exist. And believing, as we conceive 
we cannot but believe, that the laws of motion and rest were thus 
given with reference to their ends, we perceive in this instance, as 
in others, how wide and profound this reference is, how simple in 
its means, how fertile in its consequences, how effective in its details. 



BOOK III. 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



The contemplation of the material universe exhibits God to us as 
the author of the laws of material nature ; bringing before us a 
wonderful spectacle, in the simplicity, the comprehensiveness, the 
mutual adaptation of these laws, and in the vast variety of harmo- 
nious and beneficial effects produced by their mutual bearing and 
combined operation. But it is the consideration of the moral world, 
of the results of our powers of thought and action, which leads us 
to regard the Deity in that light in which our relation to him be- 
comes a matter of the highest interest and importance. We per- 
ceive that man is capable of referring his actions to principles of 
right and wrong ; that both his faculties and his virtues may be un- 
folded and advanced by the discipline which arises from tfie cir- 
cumstances of human society ; that good men can be discriminated 
from the bad, only by a course of trial, by struggles with difficulty 
and temptation; that the best men feel deeply the need of relying, 
in such conflicts, on the thought of a superintending Spiritual Power ; 
that our views of justice, our capacity for intellectual and moral ad- 
vancement, and a crowd of hopes and anticipations which rise in 
our bosoms unsought, and cling there with inexhaustible tenacity, 
will not allow us to acquiesce in the belief that this life is the end of 
our existence. We are thus led to see that our relation to the Su- 
perintender of our moral being, to the Depository of the supremo 
law of just and right, is a relation of incalculable consequence. 
We find that we cannot be permitted to be merely contemplators 
and speculators with regard to the Governor of the moral world : 
we must obey His will; we must turn our affections to Him : we 
must advance in His favour; or we offend against the nature oi our 
position in the scheme of which He is the author and sustainer. 

It is far from our purpose to represent natural religion, as ol itseli 
sufficient for our support and guidance ; or to underrate the man- 
ner in which our views of the Lord of the universe have been, 
much more, perhaps, than we are sometimes aware, illustrated ami 
confirmed by lights derived from revelation. We do not here speak 
of the manner in which men have come to believe in God, a- the 
Governor of the moral world ; but of the fact, that by the aid of 

12* 



134 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



one or both of these two guides, Reason or Revelation, reflecting 
persons in every age have been led to such a belief. And we con- 
ceive it may be useful to point out some connexion between such a 
belief of a just and holy Governor, and the conviction, which we 
have already endeavoured to impress upon the reader, of a wise 
and benevolent Creator of the physical world. This we shall en- 
deavour to do in the present book. 

At the same time that men have thus learned to look upon God as 
their Governor and Judge, the source of their support and reward, 
they have also been led, not only to ascribe to him power and skill, 
knowledge and goodness, but also to attribute to him these qualities 
in a mode and degree excluding all limit : — to consider him as al- 
mighty, all-wise, of infinite knowledge and inexhaustible goodness ; 
every where present and active, but incomprehensible by our minds, 
both in the manner of his agency, and the degree of his perfections. 
And this impression concerning the Deity appears to be that which 
the mind receives from all objects of contemplation and all modes 
of advance towards truth. To this conception it leaps with alac- 
rity and joy, and in this it acquiesces with tranquil satisfaction and 
growing confidence ; while any other view of the nature of the 
Divine Power which formed and sustained the world, is incoherent 
and untenable, exposed to insurmountable objections and intolerable 
incongruities. We shall endeavour to show that the modes of em- 
ployment of the thoughts to which the well conducted study of na- 
ture gives rise, do tend, in all their forms, to produce or strengthen 
this impression on the mind ; and that such an impression, and no 
other, is consistent with the widest views and most comprehensive 
aspects of nature and of philosophy, which our Natural Philosophy 
opens to us. This will be the purpose of the latter part of the pre- 
sent book. In the first, place we shall proceed with the object first 
mentioned, the connexion which may be perceived between the evi- 
dences of creative power, and of moral government, in the world. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE CREATOR OF THE PHYSICAL WORLD IS THE GOVERNOR OF THE 
MORAL WORLD. 

With our views of the moral government of the world and the 
religious interests of man, the study of material nature is not and 
cannot be directly and closely connected. But it may be of some 
service to trace in these two lines of reasoning, seemingly so re- 



A MORAL GOVERNOR. 135 

mote, a manifest convergence to the same point, a demonstrable 
unity of result. It may be useful to show that we are thus led, not 
to two rulers of the universe, but to one God;— to make it appear 
that the Creator and Preserver of the world is also the Governor 
and Judge of men ;— that the Author of the Laws of Nature is also 
the Author of the Law of Duty ;— that He who regulates corporeal 
things by properties of attraction and affinity and assimilating 
power, is the same Being who regulates the actions and conditions 
of men, by the influence of the feeling of responsibility, the percep- 
tion of right and wrong, the hope of happiness, the love of good. 

The conviction that the Divine attributes which we are taught by 
the study of the material world, and those which we learn from the 
contemplation of man, as a responsible agent, belong to the Divine 
Being, will be forced upon us, if we consider the manner in which 
all the parts of the universe, the corporeal and intellectual, the ani- 
mal and moral, are connected with each other. In each of these 
provinces of creation we trace refined adaptations and arrangements 
which lead us to the Creator and Director of so skilful a svstem ; 
but these provinces are so intermixed, these different trains of con- 
trivances so interwoven, that we cannot, in our thoughts, separate 
the author of one part from the author of another. The Creator of 
the Heavens and of the Earth, of the inorganic and of the organic 
world, of animals and of man, of the affections and the conscience, 
appears inevitably to be one and the same God. 

We will pursue this reflection a little more into detail. 

1. The atmosphere is a mere mass of fluid floating on the surface 
of the ball of the earth ; it is one of the inert and inorganic portions 
of the universe, and must be conceived to have been formed by the 
same Power which formed the solid mass of the earth and all other 
parts of the solar system. But how far is the atmosphere from be- 
ing inert in its effects on organic beings, and unconnected with the 
world of life ! By what wonderful adaptations of its mechanical and 
chemical properties, and of the vital powers of plants, to each other, 
are the developement and well-being of plants and animals secured ! 
The creator of the atmosphere must have been also the creator of 
plants and animals: we cannot for an instant believe the contrary. 
But the atmosphere is not only subservient to the life of animals, and 
of man among the rest; it is also the vehicle of voice; it answers 
the purpose of intercourse; and, in the case of man, of rati. ma! in- 
tercourse. We have seen how remarkably the air is fitted lor this 
office ; the construction of the organs of articulation, by which they 
are enabled to perform their part of the work, is, as is well known, 
a most exquisite system of contrivances. But though living in an at- 
mosphere capable of transmitting articulate sound, and though pro- 
vided with organs fitted to articulate, man would never attain to the 
use of language, if he were not also endowed with another set of 
faculties. The powers of abstraction and generalisation, memory 



136 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



and reason, the tendencies which occasion the inflections and com- 
binations of words, are all necessary to the formation and use of 
language. Are not these parts of the same scheme of which the bodily 
faculties by which we are able to speak are another part? Has man 
his mental powers independently of the creator of his bodily frame ? 
To what purpose then, or by what cause was the curious and com- 
plex machinery of the tongue, the glottis, the larynx produced? 
These are useful for speech, and full of contrivances which suggest 
such a use as the end for which those organs were constructed. But 
speech appears to have been no less contemplated in the intellectual 
structure of man. The processes of which we have spoken, gene- 
ralization, abstraction, reasoning, have a close dependence on the 
use of speech. These faculties are presupposed in the formation of 
language, but they are developed and perfected by the use of lan- 
guage. The mind of man then, with all its intellectual endowments, 
is the work of the same artist by whose hands his bodily frame was 
fashioned ; as his bodily faculties again are evidently constructed by 
the maker of those elements on which their action depends. The 
creator of the atmosphere and of the material universe is the creator 
of the human mind, and the author of those wonderful powers of think- 
ing, judging, inferring, discovering, by which we are able to reason 
concerning the world in which we are placed ; and which aid us in 
lifting our thoughts to the source of our being himself. 

2. Light, or the means by which light is propagated, is another of 
the inorganic elements which forms a portion of the mere material 
world. The luminiferous ether, if we adopt that theory, or the fluid 
light of the theory of emission, must indubitably pervade the remotest 
regions of the universe, and must be supposed to exist, as soon as we 
suppose the material parts of the universe to be in existence. The 
origin of light then must be at least as far removed from us as the 
origin of the solar system. Yet how closely connected are the pro- 
perties of light with the structure of our own bodies ! The mechanism 
of the organs of vision and the mechanism of light are, as we have 
seen, most curiously adapted to each other. We must suppose, then, 
that the same power and skill produced one and the other of these 
two sets of contrivances, which so remarkably jfa into each other. The 
creator of light is the author of our visual powers. But how small 
a portion does mere visual perception constitute of the advantages 
which we derive from vision ! We possess ulterior faculties and capa- 
cities by which sight becomes a source of happiness and good to man. 
The sense of beauty, the love of art, the pleasure arising from the con- 
templation of nature, are all dependent on the eye ; and we can hardly 
doubt that these faculties were bestowed on man to further the best in- 
terests of his being. The sense of beauty both animates and refines 
his domestic tendencies ; the love of art is a powerful instrument for 
raising him above the mere cravings and satisfactions of his animal 
nature ; the expansion of mind which rises in us at the sight of the 



A MORAL GOVERNOR. 



137 



starry sky, the cloud-capt mountain, the boundless ocean, seems in- 
tended to direct our thoughts by an impressive though indefinite feel- 
ing, to the Infinite Author of Ail. But if these faculties be thus part 
of the scheme of man's inner being, given him bv a good and wise 
creator, can we suppose that this creator was any other than the 
creator also of those visual organs, without which the faculties could 
have no operation and no existence 1 As clearly as light and the eye 
are the work of the same author, so clearly also do our capacities 
for the most exalted visual pleasures, and the feelings flowing from 
them, proceed from the same Divine Hand. 

3. The creator of the earth must be conceived to be the author 
also of all those qualities in the soil, chemical and whatever else, by 
which it supports vegetable life, under all the modifications of natural 
and artificial condition. Among the attributes which the earth thus 
possesses, there are some which seem to have an especial reference 
to man in a state of society. Such are the powers of the earth to in- 
crease its produce under the influence of cultivation, and the neces- 
sary existence of property in land, in order that this cultivation may 
be advantageously applied ; the rise, under such circumstances, of a 
surplus produce, of a quantity of subsistence exceeding the wants of 
the cultivators alone ; and the consequent possibility of inequalities of 
rank, and of all the arrangements of civil society. These are all 
parts of the constitution of the earth. But these would all remain 
mere idle possibilities, if the nature of man had not a corresponding 
direction. If man had not a social and economical tendency, a dis- 
position to congregate and co-operate, to distribute possessions and 
offices among the members of the community, to make and obey and 
enforce laws, the earth w r ould in vain be ready to respond to the care 
of the husbandman. Must we not then suppose that this attribute of 
the earth was bestowed upon it by Him who gave to man those cor- 
responding attributes, through which the apparent niggardliness of 
the soil is the source of general comfort and security, of polity and 
law 1 Must we not suppose that He who created the soil also in- 
spired man with those social desires and feelings which produce 
cities and states, law 7 s and institutions, arts and civilization; and that 
thus the apparently inert mass of earth is a part of. the same scheme 
as those faculties and powers with which man's moral and intellec- 
tual progress is most connected ? 

4. Again :— It will hardly be questioned that the author of the ma- 
terial elements is also the author of the structure of animals, which 
is adapted to and provided for by the constitution of the elements in 
such innumerable ways. But the author of the bodily structure ol 
animals must also be the author of their instincts, for without these 
the structure would not answer its purpose. And these instincts fre- 
quently assume the character of affections in a most remarkable 
manner. The love of offspring, of home, of companions, arc often 
displayed by animals, in a way that strikes the most indifferent " b- 



138 



KFXIGIOUS VIEWS. 



server ; and yet these affections will hardly be denied to be a part 
of the same scheme as the instincts by which the same animals seek 
food and the gratifications of sense. Who can doubt that the anxious 
and devoted affection of the mother-bird for her young after they are 
hatched, is a part of the same system of Providence as the instinct 
by which she is impelled to sit upon her eggs 1 and this, of the same 
by which her eggs are so organized that incubation leads to the 
birth of the young animal? Nor, again, can we imagine that while 
the structure and affections of animals belong to one system of things, 
the affections of man, in many respects so similar to those of ani- 
mals, and connected with the bodily frame in a manner so closely 
analogous, can belong to a different scheme. Who, that reads the 
touching instances of maternal affection, related so often of the wo- 
men of all nations, and of the females of all animals, can doubt that 
the principle of action is the same in the two cases, though enlight- 
ened in one of them by the rational faculty? And who can place 
in separate provinces the supporting and protecting love of the father 
and of the mother ? or consider as entirely distinct from these, and 
belonging to another part of our nature, the other kinds of family 
affection 1 or disjoin man's love of his home, his clan, his tribe, his 
country, from the affection which he bears to his family 1 The love 
of offspring, home, friends, in man, is then part of the same system 
of contrivances of which bodily organization is another part. And 
thus the author of our corporeal frame is also the author of our ca- 
pacity of kindness and resentment, of our love and of our wish to be 
loved, of all the emotions which bind us to individuals, to our fami- 
lies, and to our kind. 

It is not necessary here to follow out and classify these emotions 
and affections : or to examine how they are combined and connect- 
ed with our other motives of action, mutually giving and receiving 
strength and direction. The desire of esteem, of power, of know- 
ledge, of society, the love of kindred, of friends, of our country, are 
manifestly among the main forces by which man is urged to act and 
to abstain. And as these parts of the constitution of man are clearly 
intended, as we conceive, to impel him in his appointed path ; so we 
conceive that they are no less clearly the work of the same great 
Artificer who created the heart, the eye, the hand, the tongue, and 
that elemental world in which, by means of these instruments, man 
pursues the objects of his appetites, desires, and affections. 

5. But if the Creator of the world be also the author of our intel- 
lectual powers, of our feeling for the beautiful and the sublime, of 
our social tendencies, and of our natural desires and affections, we 
shall find it impossible not to ascribe also to Him the higher direc- 
tive attributes of our nature, the conscious and the religious feeling, 
the reference of our actions to the rule of duty and to the will of 
God. 

It would not suit the plan of the present treatise to enter into any 



A MORAL GOVERNOR. 



139 



detailed analysis of the connexion of these various portions of our 
moral constitution. But we may observe that the existence ami 
universality of the conception of duty and right cannot be doubted, 
however men may differ as to its original or derivative nature. All 
men are perpetually led to form judgments concerning actions, and 
emotions which lead to action, as right or wrong: as what they 
ought or ought not to do or feel. There is a facultv which approves 
and disapproves, acquits or condemns the workings of our other fa- 
culties. Now, what shall we say of such a judiciary principle, thus 
introduced among our motives to action? Shall we conceive that 
while the other springs of action are balanced against each other by 
our Creator, this, the most pervading and universal regulator, was 
no part of the original scheme? That — while the love of animal 
pleasures, of power, of fame, the regard for friends, the pleasure of 
bestowing pleasure, were infused into man as influences by which 
his course of life was to be carried on, and his capacities and powers 
developed and exercised ; — this reverence for a moral law, this ac- 
knowledgment of the obligation of duty, — a feeling which is every 
where found, and which may become a powerful, a predominating 
motive of action, — was given for no purpose, and belongs not to the 
design? Such an opinion would be much as if we should acknow- 
ledge the skill and contrivance manifested in the other parts of a 
ship, but should refuse to recognise the rudder as exhibiting any 
evidence of a purpose. "Without the reverence which the opinion of 
right inspires, and the scourge of general disapprobation inflicted on 
that which is accounted wicked, society could scarcely go on; and 
certainly the feelings and thoughts and characters of men could not 
be what they are. Those impulses of nature which involve no ac- 
knowledgment of responsibility, and the play and struggle of inter- 
fering wishes, might preserve the species in some shape of existence, 
as we see in the case of brutes. But a person must be strangely 
constituted, who, living amid the respect for law, the admiration far 
what is good, the order and virtues and graces of civilized nations, 
(all which have their origin in some degree in the feeling of respon- 
sibility) can maintain that all these are casual and extraneous cir- 
cumstances, no way contemplated in the formation of man ; and that 
a condition in which there should be no obligation in law, no merit in 
self-restraint, no beauty in virtue, is equally suited to the powers and 
the nature of man, and was equally contemplated when those powers 
were given him. 

If this supposition be too extravagant to be admitted, as ii appears 
to be, it remains then that man, intended, as we have already seen 
from his structure and properties, to be a discoursing, social being, 
acting under the influence of affections, desires, and purposes, was 
also intended to act under the influence of a sense of duty ; and that 
the acknowledgment of the obligation of amoral law is as much 
part of his nature, as hunger or thirst, maternal love or the desire of 



140 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



power ; that, therefore, in conceiving man as the work of a Creator, 
we must imagine his powers and character given him with an in- 
tention on the Creator's part that this sense of duty should occupy 
its place in his constitution as an active and thinking being : and that 
this directive and judiciary principle is a part of the work of the 
same Author who made the elements to minister to the material 
functions, and the arrangements of the world to occupy the indivi- 
dual and social affections of his living creatures. 

This principle of conscience, it may further be observed, does not 
stand upon the same level as the other impulses of our constitution 
by which we are prompted or restrained. By its very nature and 
essence, it possesses a supremacy over all others. " Your obligation 
to obey this law is its being the law of your nature. That your con- 
science approves of and attests such a course of action is itself alone 
an obligation. Conscience does not alone offer itself to show us the 
way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its own authority 
with it, that it is our natural guide : the guide assigned us by the 
author of our nature."* That we ought to do an action, is of itself 
a sufficient and ultimate answer to the questions, why we should do 
it? — how we are obliged to do it? The conviction of duty implies 
the soundest reason, the strongest obligation, of which our nature is 
susceptible. 

We appear then to be using only language which is well capable 
of being justified, when we speak of this irresistible esteem for what 
is right, this conviction of a rule of action extending beyond the 
gratification of our irreflective impulses, as an impress stamped upon 
the human mind by the Deity himself; a trace of His nature; an in- 
dication of His will ; an announcement of His purpose ; a promise 
of His favour : and though this faculty may need to be confirmed 
and unfolded, instructed and assisted by other aids, it still seems to 
contain in itself a sufficient intimation that the highest objects of 
man's existence are to be attained, by means of a direct and intimate 
reference of his thoughts and actions to the Divine Author of his 
being. 

Such then is the Deity to which the researches of Natural 
Theology point ; and so far is the train of reflections in which we 
have engaged, from being merely speculative and barren. With 
the material world we cannot stop. If a superior Intelligence have 
ordered and adjusted the succession of seasons and the structure 
of the plants of the field, we must allow far more than this at first 
sight would seem to imply. We must admit still greater powers, 
still higher wisdom for the creation of the beasts of the forest with 
their faculties ; and higher wisdom still and more transcendent at- 
tributes, for the creation of man. And when we reach this point, 
we find that it is not knowledge only, not power only, not foresight 



* Butler, Serm. 3. 



VASTNESS of the universe. 



in 



and beneficence alone, which we must attribute to the Maker of 
the World; but that we must consider him as the Author, m 
us, of a reverence for moral purity and rectitude ; and, if the author 
of such emotions in us, how can we conceive of Him otherwise, 
than that these qualities are parts of his nature; and that he is 
not only wise and great, and good, incomparablv beyond our 
highest conceptions, but also conformed in his purposes to the rule 
which he thus impresses upon us, that is, Holy in the highest de- 
gree which we can image to ourselves as possible. 



CHAPTER II. 

ON THE VASTNESS OF THE UNIVERSE. 

1. The aspect of the world, even without any of the peculiar 
lights which science throws upon it, is fitted to give us an idea of 
the greatness of the power by which it is directed and governed, 
far exceeding any notions of power and greatness which are sug- 
gested by any other contemplation. The number of human beings 
who surround us — the various conditions requisite for their life, 
nutrition, well-being, all fulfilled ;— the way in which these conditions 
are modified, as we pass in thought to other countries, by climate, 
temperament, habit ; — the vast amount of the human population of 
the globe thus made up; — yet man himself but one among almost 
endless tribes of animals; — the forest, the field, the desert, the air, 
the ocean, all teeming with creatures whose bodily wants are as 
carefully provided for as his; — the sun, the clouds, the winds, all 
attending, as it were, on these organized beings; — a host of be- 
neficent energies, unwearied by time and succession, pervading 
every corner of the earth; — this spectacle cannot but give the 
contemplator a lofty and magnificent conception of the Author 
of so vast a work, of the Ruler of so wide and rich an empire, 
of the Provider for so many and varied wants, the Director and 
Adjuster of such complex and jarring interests. 

But when we take a more exact view of this spectacle, and 
aid our vision by the discoveries which have been made oi die 
structure arid extent of the universe, the impression is incalculably 
increased. , . , 

The number and variety of animals, the exquisite skill displayed 
in their structure, the comprehensive and profound relations by 
which they are connected, far exceed anything which we could m 
any degree have imagined. But the view of the universe expands 



142 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



also on another side. The earth, the globular body thus covered 
with life, is not the only globe in the universe. There are, circling 
about our own sun, six others, so far as we can judge, perfectly 
analogous in their nature : besides our moon and other bodies ana- 
logous to it. No one can resist the temptation to conjecture, that 
these globes, some of them much larger than our own, are not dead 
and barren ; — that they are, like ours, occupied with organization, 
life, intelligence. To conjecture is all that we can do, yet even 
by the perception of such a possibility, our view of the kingdom 
of nature is enlarged and elevated. The outermost of the planetary 
globes of which we have spoken is so far from the sun, that the 
central luminary must appear to the inhabitants of that planet, if 
any there are, no larger than Venus does to us ; and the length of 
their year will be 82 of ours. 

But astronomy carries us still onwards. It teaches us that, with 
the exception of the planets already mentioned, the stars which we 
see have no immediate relation to our system. The obvious sup- 
position is that they are of the nature and order of our sun : the 
minuteness of their apparent magnitude agrees, on this supposition, 
with the enormous and almost inconceivable distance which, from 
all the measurements of astronomers, we are led to attribute to 
them. If then these are suns, they may, like our sun, have planets 
revolving round them ; and these may, like our planet, be the seats 
of vegetable and animal and rational life : — we may thus have 
in the universe worlds, no one knows how many, no one can guess 
how varied : — but however many, however varied, they are still 
but so many provinces in the same empire, subject to common rules, 
governed by a common power. 

But the stars which we see with the naked eye are but a very 
small portion of those which the telescope unveils to us. The most 
imperfect telescope will discover some that are invisible without it ; 
the very best instrument perhaps does not show us the most re- 
mote. The number which crowd some parts of the heavens is 
truly marvellous. D'r. Herschel calculated that a portion of the 
rnilky way, about 10 degrees long and broad, contained 258,000. 
In a sky so occupied the moon would eclipse 2000 of such stars at 
once. 

We learn too from the telescope that even in this province the 
variety of nature is not exhausted. Not only do the stars differ in 
colour and appearance, but some of them grow periodically fainter 
and brighter, as if they were dark on one side, and revolved on 
their axis. In other cases two stars appear close to each other, 
and in some of these cases it has been clearly established, that 
the two have a motion of revolution about each other ; thus exhibit- 
ing an arrangement before unguessed, and giving rise, possibly, to 
new T conditions of worlds. In other instances again, the telescope 
shows, not luminous points, but extended masses of dilute light, like 



VASTNESS OF THE UNIVERSE. 



143 



bright clouds, hence called nebula. Some have supposed (as we 
have noticed in the last book) that such nebula? by further condensa- 
tion might become suns; but for such opinions we have nothing 
but conjecture. Some stars again have undergone permanent 
changes, or have absolutely disappeared, as the celebrated star of 
1572, in the constellation Cassiopea. 

If we take the whole range of created objects in our own sys- 
tem, from the sun down to the smallest animalcule, and suppose 
such a system, or something in some way analogous to it, to be re- 
peated for each of the millions of stars thus revealed to us, we 
have a representation of the material part of the universe, accord- 
ing to a view which many minds receive as a probable one; and re- 
ferring this aggregate of systems to the Author of the universe, as 
in our own system we have found ourselves led to do, we have 
thus an estimate of the extent to which his creative energy would 
thus appear to have been exercised in the material world. 

If we consider further the endless and admirable contrivances 
and adaptations which philosophers and observers have discovered 
in every portion of our own system, every new step of our know- 
ledge showing us something new in this respect ; and if we com- 
bine this consideration with the thought how small a portion of the 
universe our knowledge includes, we shall, without being able at all 
to discern the extent of the skill and wisdom thus displayed, see 
something of the character of the design, and of the copiousness 
and ampleness of the means which the scheme of the world ex- 
hibits. And w T hen we see that the tendency of all the arrange- 
ments which we can comprehend is to support the existence, to de- 
velope the faculties, to promote the well-being of these countless 
species of creatures ; we shall have some impression of the benefi- 
cence and love of the Creator, as manifested in the physical 
government of his creation. 

2. It is extremely difficult to devise any means of bringing before 
a common apprehension the scale on which the universe is con- 
structed, the enormous proportion which the larger dimensions bear 
to the smaller, and the amazing number of steps from large to 
smaller, or from small to larger, which the consideration of it offers. 
The following comparative representations may serve to give the 
reader to whom the subject is new some idea of these steps. 

If we suppose the earth to be represented by a globe a foot in 
diameter, the distance of the sun from the earth will be about two 
miles; the diameter of the sun, on the same supposition, will be 
something above one hundred feet, and consequently his bulk such 
as might Tbe made up of two hemispheres, each about the size ol the 
dome of St. Paul's. The moon will be thirty feet from us, and her 
diameter three inches, about that of a cricket ball. Thus the sun 
would much more than occupy all the space within the moon's 
orbit. On the same scale, Jupiter would be above ten miles from 



144 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



the sun, and Uranus forty. We see then ,how thinly scattered 
through space are the heavenly bodies. The fixed stars would be 
at an unknown, distance, but, probably, if all distances were thus 
diminished, no star would be nearer to such a one-foot earth, than 
the moon now is to us. 

On such a terrestrial globe the highest mountains would be about 
l-80th of an inch high, and consequently only just distinguishable. 
We may imagine therefore how imperceptible would be the largest 
animals. The whole organized covering of such a globe would be 
quite undiscoverable by the eye, except perhaps by colour, like the 
bloom on a plum. 

In order to restore this earth and its inhabitants to their true di- 
mensions, we must magnify them forty millions of times ; and to 
preserve the proportions, we must increase equally the distances of 
the sun and of the stars from us. They seem thus to pass off into 
infinity; yet each of them thus removed, has its system of mechani- 
cal and perhaps of organic processes going on upon its surface. 

But the arrangements of organic life which we can see with the 
naked eye are few, compared with those which the microscope de- 
tects. We know that we may magnify objects thousands of times, 
and still discover fresh complexities of structure ; if we suppose, 
therefore, that we increase every particle of matter in our universe 
in such a proportion, in length, breadth, and thickness, we may con- 
ceive that we tend thus to bring before our apprehension a true esti- 
mate of the quantity of organized adaptations which are ready to 
testify the extent of the Creator's power. 

3. The other numerical quantities w r hich we have to consider in 
the phenomena of the universe are on as gigantic a scale as the dis- 
tances and sizes. By the rotation of the earth on its axis, the parts 
of the equator move at the rate of a thousand miles an hour, and 
the portions of the earth's surface which are in our latitude, at about 
six hundred. The former velocity is nearly that with which a can- 
non ball is discharged from the mouth of a gun; but, large as it is, 
it is inconsiderable compared with the velocity of the earth in its 
orbit about the sun. This latter velocity is sixty-five times the for- 
mer. By the rotatory motion of the earth, a point on its surface is 
carried sometimes forwards and sometimes backwards with regard 
to the annual progression; but in consequence of the great pre- 
dominance of the latter velocity in amount, the former scarcely 
affects it either way. And even the latter velocity is inconsiderable 
compared with that of light ; which comparison, however, we shall 
not make; since, according to the theory we have considered as 
most probable, the motion of light is not a transfer of matter but of 
motion from one part of space to another. 

The extent of the scale of density of different substances has al- 
ready been mentioned ; gold is twenty times as heavy as water; air 
is eight hundred and thirty times lighter, steam 1-8000 times lighter 



VASTNESS OF THE UNIVERSE. 



145 



than water; the luminiferous ether is incomparably rarer than 
steam: and this is true of the matter of light, whether\ve adopt the 
undulatory theory or any other. 

4. The above statements are vast in amount, and almost oppres- 
sive to our faculties. They belong to the measurement of the 
powers which are exerted in the universe, and of the spaces through 
which their efficacy reaches (for the most distant bodies are proba- 
bly connected both by gravity and light.) But these estimates can- 
not be said so much to give us any notion of the powers of the 
Deity, as to correct the errors we should fall into by supposing his 
powers at all to resemble ours : — by supposing that numbers, and 
spaces, and forces, and combinations, which would overwhelm us, 
are any obstacle to the arrangements which his plan requires. We 
can easily understand that to an intelligence surpassing ours in de- 
gree only, that may be easy which is impossible to us. The child 
who cannot count beyond four, the savage who has no name for 
any number above five, cannot comprehend the possibility of deal- 
ing with thousands and millions : yet a little additional develope- 
ment of the intellect makes such numbers manageable and con- 
ceivable. The difficulty which appears to reside in numbers and 
magnitudes and stages of subordination, is one produced by judging 
from ourselves — by measuring with our own sounding line ; when 
that reaches no bottom, the ocean appears unfathomable. Yet in 
fact, how is a hundred millions of miles a great distance? how is a 
hundred millions of times a great ratio? Not in itself: this great- 
ness is no quality of the numbers which can be proved like their 
mathematical properties; on the contrary, all that absolutely belongs 
to number, space, and ratio, must, we know demonstrably, be equally 
true of the largest and the. smallest. It is clear that the greatness 
of these expressions of measure has reference to our faculties only. 
Our astonishment and embarrassment take for granted the limits of 
our own nature. We have a tendency to treat a difference of de- 
gree and of addition, as if it were a difference of kind and of trans- 
formation. The existence of the attributes, design, power, good- 
ness, is a matter depending on obvious grounds : about these quali- 
ties there can be no mistake: if we can know anything, we can 
know these attributes when we see them. But the extent, the limits 
of such attributes must be determined by their effects ; our know- 
ledge of their limits by what we see of the effects. Nor is any ex- 
tent, any amount of power and goodness improbable before hand : 
we know that these must be great, we cannot tell how - real. \\ e 
should not expect beforehand to find them bounded; and there 
when the boundless prospect opens before us, we may be bewildered, 
but we have no reason to be shaken in our conviction of the reality 
of the cause from which their effects proceed: we may feel our- 
selves incapable of following the train of thought, and may step. 



146 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



but we have no rational motive for quitting the point which we have 
thus attained in tracing the Divine Perfections. 

On the contrary, those magnitudes and proportions which leave 
our powers of conception far behind ; — that ever-expanding view 
which is brought before us, of the scale and mechanism, the riches 
and magnificence, the population and activity of the universe 
may reasonably serve, not to disturb, but enlarge and elevate our 
conceptions of the Maker and Master of all ; to feed an ever-grow- 
ing admiration of His wonderful nature ; and to excite a desire to 
be able to contemplate more steadily and conceive less inadequately 
the scheme of his government and the operation of his power. 



CHAPTER III. 
on man's place in the universe. 

The mere aspect of the starry heavens, without taking into ac- 
count the view of them to which science introduces us, tends strongly 
to force upon man the impression of his own insignificance. The 
vault of the sky arched at a vast and unknown distance over our 
heads ; the stars, apparently infinite in number, each keeping its ap- 
pointed place and course, and seeming to belong to a wide system 
of things which has no relation to the earth ; while man is but one 
among many millions of the earth's inhabitants; — all this makes the 
contemplative spectator feel how exceedingly small a portion of the 
universe he is ; how little he must be, in the eyes of an intelligence 
which can embrace the whole. Every person, in every age and 
country, will recognise as irresistibly natural the train of thought 
expressed by the Hebrew psalmist: " when I consider the heavens 
the work of thy hands — the moon and the stars which thou hast or- 
dained — Lord what is man that thou art mindful of him, or the son 
of man that thou regardest him V 

If this be the feeling of the untaught person, when he contemplates 
the aspect of the skies, such as they offer themselves to a casual and 
unassisted glance, the impression must needs be incalculably aug- 
mented, when we look at the universe with the aid of astronomical 
discovery and theory. We then find, that a few of the shining points 
which we see scattered on the face of the sky in such profusion, ap- 
pear to be of the same nature as the earth, and may perhaps, as 
analogy would suggest, be like the earth, the habitations of orga- 
nized beings ; — that the rest of " the host of heaven" may, by a like 
analogy, be conjectured to be the centres of similar systems of re- 
volving worlds ; — that the vision of man has gone travelling on- 



man's place in the universe. 



147 



wards, to an extent never anticipated, through this multitude of sys- 
tems, and that while myriads of new centres start up at every ad- 
vance, he appears as yet not to have received any intimation of a 
limit. Every person probably feels, at first, lost, confounded, over- 
whelmed, with the vastness of this spectacle, and seems to himself, 
as it were, annihilated by the magnitude and multitude of the objects 
which thus compose the universe. The distance between him and 
the Creator of the world appears to be increased beyond measure 
by this disclosure. It seems as if a single individual could have no 
chance and no claim for the regard of the Ruler of the whole. 

The mode in which the belief of God's government of the physical 
world is important and interesting to man, is, as has already been 
said, through the connexion which this belief has with the conviction 
of God's government of the moral world; this latter government 
being, from its nature, one which has a personal relation to each in- 
dividual, his actions and thoughts. It will, therefore, illustrate our 
subject to show that this impression of the difficulty of a personal 
superintendence and government, exercised by the Maker of the 
world over each of his rational and free creatures, is founded upon 
illusory views ; and that on an attentive and philosophical examina- 
tion of the subject, such a government is in accordance with all that 
w r e can discover of the scheme and the scale of the universe. 

1. We may, in the first place, repeat the observation made in the 
last chapter, on the confusion w r hich sometimes arises in our minds, 
and makes us consider the number of the objects of the Divine care 
as a difficulty in the way of its exercise. If we can conceive this 
care employed on a million persons, on the population of a kingdom, 
of a city, of a street, there is no real difficulty in supposing it extend- 
ed to every planet in the solar system, admitting each to be peopled 
as ours is ; nor to every part of the universe, supposing each star 
the centre of such a system. Numbers are nothing in themselves; 
and when we reject the known, but unessential limits of our own fa- 
culties, it is quite as allowable to suppose a million millions of earths, 
as one, to be under the moral government of God. 

2. In the next place we may remark, not only that no reason can 
be assigned why the Divine care should not extend to a much greater 
number of individuals than we at first imagine, but that in fact we 
know that it does so extend. It has been well observed, that about 
the same time w ; hen the invention of the telescope showed us that 
there might be myriads of other worlds claiming the Creator's care; 
the invention of the microscope proved to us that there were in our 
own world myriads of creatures, before unknown, which this care 
was preserving. While one discovery seemed to remove the Di- 
vine Providence further from us, the other gave us most striking 
examples that it was far more active in our neighbourhood than we 
had supposed: while the first extended the boundaries oi God's 
known kingdom, the second made its known administration more 



148 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



minute and careful. It appeared that in the leaf and in the bud, in 
solids and in fluids, animals existed hitherto unsuspected ; the appa- 
rently dead masses and blank spaces of the world were found to 
swarm with life. And yet, of the animals thus revealed, all, though 
unknown to us before, had never been forgotten by Providence. 
Their structure, their vessels and limbs, their adaptation to their 
situation, their food and habitations, were regulated in as beautiful 
and complete a manner as those of the largest and apparently most 
favoured animals. The smallest insects are as exactly finished, of- 
ten as gaily ornamented, as the most graceful beasts or the birds of 
brightest plumage. And when we seem to go out of the domain of 
the complex animal structure with which we are familiar, and come 
to animals of apparently more scanty faculties, and less developed 
powers of enjoyment and action, we still find that their faculties and 
their senses are in exact harmony with their situation and circum- 
stances ; that the wants which they have are provided for, and the 
powers which they possess called into activity. So that Muller, the 
patient and accurate observer of the smallest and most obscure mi- 
croscopical animalcula, declares that all classes alike, those which 
have manifest organs, and those which have not, offer a vast quan- 
tity of new and striking views of the animal economy ; every step 
of our discoveries leading, us to admire the design and care of the 
Creator.* We find, therefore, that the Divine Providence is, in fact, 
capable of extending itself adequately to an immense succession of 
tribes of beings, surpassing what we can image or could previously 
have anticipated; and thus we may feel secure, so far as analogy 
can secure us, that the mere multitude of created objects cannot re- 
move us from the government and superintendence of the Creator. 

3. We may observe further, that, vast as are the parts and pro- 
portions of the universe, we still appear to be able to perceive that 
it is finite ; the subordination of magnitudes and numbers and classes 
appears to have its limits. Thus, for anything which we can dis- 
cover, the sun is the largest body in the universe; and at any rate, 
bodies of the order of the sun are the largest of which we have any 
evidence: we know of no substance denser than gold, and it is im- 
probable that one denser, or at least much denser, should ever be 
detected : the largest animals which exist in the sea and on the 
earth are almost certainly known to us. We may venture also to 
say, that the smallest animals which possess in their structure a clear 
analogy with larger ones, have been already seen. Many of the 
animals which the microscope detects, are as complete and complex 
in their organization as those of larger size : but beyond a certain 
point, they appear, as they become more minute, to be reduced to a 
homogeneity and simplicity of composition which almost excludes 
them from the domain of animal life. The smallest microscopical 



* Mailer, Infusoria, Preface. 



man's place in the universe. 



11!) 



objects which can be supposed to be organic, are points* or gelati- 
nous globules,! or threads^ in which no distinct organs, interior or 
exterior, can be discovered. These, it is clear, cannot be considered 
as indicating an indefinite progression of animal life in a descending 
scale of minuteness. We can, mathematically speaking, conceive 
one of these animals as perfect and complicated in its structure as 
an elephant or an eagle, but we do not find it so in nature. It ap- 
pears, on the contrary, in these objects, as if we were, at a certain 
point of magnitude, reaching the boundaries of the animal world. 
We need not here consider the hypotheses and opinions to which 
these ambiguous objects have given rise; but, without any theory, 
they tend to show that the subordination of organic life is" finite on 
the side of the little as well as of the great. 

Some persons might, perhaps, imagine that a ground for believing 
the smallness of organized beings to be limited, might be found in 
what we know of the constitution of matter. If solids and fluids 
consist of particles of a definite, though exceeding smallness, which 
cannot further be divided or diminished, it is manifest that we have, 
in the smallness of these particles, a limit to the possible size of the 
vessels and organs of animals. The fluids which are secreted, and 
which circulate in the body of a mite, must needs consist of a vast 
number of particles, or they would not be fluids: and an animal 
might be so much smaller than a mite, that its tubes could not con- 
tain a sufficient collection of the atoms of matter, to carry on its 
functions. We should, therefore, of necessity reach a limit of 
minuteness in organic life, if we would demonstrate that matter is 
composed of such indivisible atoms. We shall not, however, build 
anything on this argument ; because, though the atomic theory is 
sometimes said to be proved, what is proved is, that chemical and 
other effects take place as if they were the aggregate of the effects 
of certain particles of elements, the 'proportions of which particles 
are fixed and definite; but that any limit can be assigned to the 
smallness of these particles, has never yet been made out. We pre- 
fer, therefore, to rest the proof of the finite extent of animal life, as 
to size, on the microscopical observations previously referred to. 

Probably we cannot yet be said to have reached the limit of the 
universe with the power of our telescopes; that is, it docs not ap- 
pear that telescopes have yet been used, so powerful in exhibiting 
small stars, that we can assume that more powerful instruments 
would not discover new stars. Whether or not, however, this de- 
gree of perfection has been reached, we have no proof thai it does 
not exist: if it were once obtained we should have, with some ap- 
proximation, the limit of the universe as to the number of worlds, 
as we have already endeavoured to show we have obtained the 
limits with regard to the largeness and smallness of the inhabitants 
of our own world. 



* Monas. Muller. Cuvier. 



f Volvox. t Vibrio. Bfuller. Cuvier. 



150 RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 

In like manner, although the discovery of new species in some of 
the kingdoms of nature has gone on recently with enormous rapidi- 
ty, and to an immense extent ; — for instance in botany, where the 
species known in the time of Linnaeus were about 10,000, and are 
now probably 50,000 there can be no doubt that the number of 
species and genera is really limited ; and though a great extension 
of our knowledge is required to reach these limits, it is our ignorance 
merely, and not their non-existence, which removes them from us. 

In the same way it would appear that the universe, so far as it is 
an object of our knowledge, is finite in other respects also. Now 
w 7 hen we have once attained this conviction, all the oppressive ap- 
prehension of being overlooked in the government of the universe 
has no longer any rational source. For in the superintendence of a 
finite system of things, what is there which can appear difficult or 
overwhelming to a Being such as we must, from what we know, 
conceive the Creator to be 1 Difficulties arising from space, num- 
ber, gradation, are such as we can conceive ourselves capable of 
overcoming, merely by an extension of our present faculties. Is it 
not then easy to imagine that such difficulties must vanish before 
Him who made us and our faculties 1 Let it be considered how 
enormous a proportion the largest work of man bears to the smallest; 
— the great pyramid to the point of a needle. This comparison 
does not overwhelm us, because we know that man has made both. 
Yet the difference between this proportion and that of the sun to 
the claw of a mite, does not at all correspond to the difference which 
w r e must suppose to obtain between the Creator and the creature. 
It appears then that, if the first flash of that view of the universe 
which science reveals to us, does sometimes dazzle and bewilder 
men, a more attentive examination of the prospect, by the light we 
thus obtain, shows us how unfounded is the despair of our being the 
objects of Divine Providence, how absurd the persuasion that we 
have discovered the universe to be too large for its ruler. 

4. Another ground of satisfactory reflexion, having the same ten- 
dency, is to be found in the admirable order and consistency, the 
subordination and proportion of parts, which we find to prevail in 
the universe, as far as our discoveries reach. We have, it may be, 
a multitude almost innumerable of worlds, but no symptom of crowd- 
ing, of confusion, of interference. All such defects are avoided by 
the manner in which these worlds are distributed into systems ; — 
these systems, each occupying a vast space, but yet disposed at dis- 
tances before which their own dimensions shrink into insignificance; 
— all governed by one law, yet this law so concentrating its opera- 
tion on each system, that each proceeds as if there were no other, 
and so regulating its own effects that perpetual change produces 
permanent uniformity. This is the kind of harmonious relation 
which we perceive in that part of the universe, the mechanical part 
namely, the laws of which are best known to us. In other pro- 



man's place in the universe. 



15! 



vinces, where our knowledge is more imperfect, we can see glimpses 
of a similar vastness of combination, producing, by its very nature, 
completeness of detail. Any analogy by which we can extend 
such views to the moral world, must be of a very wide and indefi- 
nite kind; yet the contemplation of this admirable relation of the 
arrangements of the physical creation, and the perfect working of 
their laws, is well calculated to give us confidence in a similar 
beauty and perfection in the arrangements by which our moral re- 
lations are directed, our higher powers and hopes unfolded. We 
may readily believe that there is, in this part of the creation also, 
an order, a subordination of some relations to others, which may 
remove all difficulty arising from the vast multitude of moral agents 
and actions, and make it possible that the superintendence of the 
moral world shall be directed with as exact a tendency to moral 
good, as that by which the government of the physical world is 
directed to physical good. 

We may perhaps see glimpses of such an order, in the arrange- 
ments by which our highest and most important duties depend upon 
our relation to a small circle of persons immediately around us : 
and again, in the manner in which our acting well or ill results from 
the operation of a few principles within us ; as our conscience, our 
desire of moral excellence, and of the favour of God. We can 
hardly consider such principles otherwise than as intended to occupy 
their proper place in the system by which man's destination is to be 
determined ; and thus, as among the means of the government and 
superintendence of God in the moral world. 

That there must be an order and a system to which such regula- 
tive principles belong, the whole analogy of creation compels us to 
believe. It would be strange indeed, if, while the mechanical world, 
the system of inert matter, is so arranged that we cannot contem- 
plate its order without an elevated intellectual pleasure; — while or- 
ganized life has no faculties without their proper scope, no tenden- 
cies without their appointed object; — the rational faculties and 
moral tendencies of man should belong to no systematic order, 
should operate with no corresponding purpose: that, while the- per- 
ception of sweet and bitter has its acknowledged and unmistakeable 
uses, the universal perception of right and wrong, the unconquera- 
ble belief of the merit of certain feelings and actions, the craving 
alike after moral advancement and after the means of attaining it, 
should exist only to delude, perplex, and disappoint man. No one, 
with his contemplations calmed and filled and harmonized by the 
view of the known constitution of the universe, its machinery 
"wheeling unshaken" in the farthest skies and in the darkest cavern, 
its vital spirit breathing alike effectively in the veins of the pi 
pher and the worm ;— no one, under the influence of such a train ol 
contemplations, can possibly admit into his mind a persuasion which 
makes the moral part of our nature a collection ol inconsistent and 



152 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



futile impressions, of idle dreams and warring opinions, each having 
the same claims to our acceptance. Wide as is the distance be- 
tween the material and the moral world ; shadowy as all reasonings 
necessarily are which attempt to carry the inferences of one into 
the other; elevated above the region of matter as all the principles 
and grounds of truth must be, which belong to our responsibilities 
and hopes ; still the astronomical and natural philosopher can hardly 
fail to draw from their studies an imperturbable conviction that our 
moral nature cannot correspond to those representations according 
to which it has no law, coherency, or object. The mere natural 
reasoner may, or must, stop far short of all that it is his highest in- 
terest to know, his first duty to pursue ; but even he, if he take any 
elevated and comprehensive views of his own subject, must escape 
from the opinions, as unphilosophical as they are comfortless, which 
would expel from our view of the world all reference to duty and 
moral good, all reliance on the most universal grounds of trust and 
hope. 

Men's belief of their duty, and of the reasons for practising it, 
connected as it is with the conviction of a personal relation to their 
Maker, and of His power of superintendence and reward, is as 
manifest a fact in the moral, as any that can be pointed out is in 
the natural world. By the mere analogy which has been intimated, 
therefore, we cannot but conceive that this fact belongs in some 
manner or other to the order of the moral world, and of its govern- 
ment. 

When any one acknowledges a moral governor of the world ; 
perceives that domestic and social relations are perpetually operat- 
ing and seem intended to operate, to retain and direct men in the 
path of duty ; and feels that the voice of conscience, the peace of 
heart which results from a course of virtue, and the consolations of 
devotion, are ever ready to assume their office as our guides and 
aids in the conduct of all our actions ; — he will probably be willing 
to acknowledge also that the means of moral government aie not 
wanting, and will no longer be oppressed or disturbed by the appre- 
hension that the superintendence of the world may be too difficult 
for its Ruler, and that any of His subjects and servants may be 
overlooked. He will no more fear that the moral than that the 
physical laws of God's creation should be forgotten in any particular 
case : and as he knows that every sparrow which falls to the 
ground contains in its structure innumerable marks of the Divine 
care and kindness, he will be persuaded that every individual, how- 
ever apparently humble and insignificant, will have his moral being 
dealt with according to the laws of God's wisdom and love ; will be 
enlightened, supported, and raised, if he use the appointed means 
which God's administration of the world of moral light and good 
offers to his use. 



LAW IMPLIES MIS P. 



153 



CHAPTER IV. 

ON THE IMPRESSION" PRODUCED BY THE CONTEMPLATION' OF THE LAW. | >F 
NATURE; OR, ON THE CONVICTION THAT LAW IMPLIES MIND. 

The various trains of thought and reasoning which lead men 
from a consideration of the natural world to the conviction of the 
existence, the power, the providence of God, do not require, for the 
most part, any long or laboured deduction, to give them their effect 
on the mind. On the contrary, they have, in every age and country, 
produced their impression on multitudes who have not instituted any 
formal reasonings upon the subject, and probably upon many who 
have not put their conclusions in the shape of any express proposi- 
tions. The persuasion of a superior intelligence and will, which 
manifests itself in every part of the material world, is, as is well 
known, so widely diffused and deeply infixed, as to have made it a 
question among speculative men whether the notion of such a 
power is not universal and innate. It is our business to show 
only how plainly and how universally such a belief results from 
the study of the appearances about us. That in many nations, in 
many periods, this persuasion has been mixed up with much that 
was erroneous and perverse in the opinions of the intellect or the 
fictions of the fancy, does not weaken the force of such consent. 
The belief of a supernatural and presiding power runs through all 
these errors : and while the perversions are manifestly the work of 
caprice and illusion, and vanish at the first ray of sober inquiry, 
the belief itself is substantial and consistent, and grows in strength 
upon every new examination. It was the firmness and solidity ol 
the conviction of something Divine which gave a hold and perma- 
nence to the figments of so many false divinities. And those who 
have traced the progress of human thought on other subjects, will 
not think it strange, that while the fundamental persuasion of a 
Deity was thus irremoveably seated in the human mind, the deve- 
lopement of this conception into a consistent, pure, and steadfast be- 
lief in one Almighty and Holy Father and God, should be long 
missed, or never attained, by the struggle of the human faculties; 
should require long reflexion to mature it, and the aid of revelation 
to establish it in the world. 

The view of the universe which we have principally had occasion 
to present to the reader, is that in which we consider its appearances 
as reducible to certain fixed and general laws. Availing our- 
selves of some of the lights which modern science supplies, we 

14 



154 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



have endeavoured to show that the adaptation of such laws to each 
other, and their fitness to promote the harmonious and beneficial 
course of the world, may be traced, wherever we can discover 
the laws themselves ; and that the conceptions of the Divine Power, 
Goodness and Superintendence which we thus form, agree in a re- 
markable manner with the views of the Supreme Being, to which 
reason, enlightened by the divine revelation, has led. 

But we conceive that the general impressions of mankind would 
go further than a mere assent to the argument as we have thus 
stated it. To most persons it appears that the mere existence of a 
law connecting and governing any class of phenomena, implies a 
presiding intelligence which has preconceived and established the 
law. When events are regulated by precise rules of time and 
space, of number and measure, men conceive these rules to be the 
evidence of thought and mind, even without discovering in the rules 
any peculiar adaptations, or without supposing their purpose to be 
known. 

The origin and the validity of such an impression on the human 
mind may appear to some matters of abstruse and doubtful specu- 
lation : yet the tendency to such a belief prevails strongly and 
widely, both among the common class of minds whose thoughts are 
casually and unsystematically turned to such subjects, and among 
philosophers to whom laws of nature are habitual subjects of con- 
templation. We conceive therefore that such a tendency may de- 
serve to be briefly illustrated ; and we trust also that some atten- 
tion to this point may be of service in throwing light upon the true 
relation of the study of nature to the belief in God. 

1. A very slight attention shows us how readily order and re- 
gularity suggest to a common apprehension the operation of a calm 
and untroubled intelligence presiding over the course of events. 
Thus the materialist poet, in accounting for the belief in the Gods, 
though he does not share it, cannot deny the habitual effect of this 
manifestation. 

Prseterea coeli rati ones ordine certo 
Et varia annorum cernebant iempora vorti ; 
Nec poterant quibus id fieret cog-noscere causis. 
Ergo perfugium sibi habebant omnia Divis 
Tradere et illorum nutu facere omnia flecti. 

Lucret. v. 1182. 
They saw the skies in constant order run, 
The varied seasons and the circling sun, 
Apparent rule, with unapparent cause, 
And thus they sought in Gods the source of laws. 

The same feeling may be traced in the early mythology of a large 
portion of the globe. We might easily, taking advantage of the 
labours of learned men, exemplify this in the case of the oriental na- 



LAW IMPLIES MIXD. 



155 



tions, of Greece, and of many other countries. Nor does there ap- 
pear much difficulty in pointing out the error of those who have 
maintained that all religion had its origin in the worship of the s 
and the elements ; and who have insinuated that all such imprest 
are unfounded, inasmuch as these are certainly not right objects of 
human worship. The religious feeling, the conviction of a superna- 
tural power, of an intelligence connecting and directing the pheno- 
mena of the world, had not its origin in the worship of sun, or stars, 
or elements ; but was itself the necessary though unexpressed foun- 
dation of all worship, and all forms of false, as well as true, religion. 
The contemplation of the earth and heavens called into action this 
religious tendency in man ; and to say that the worship of the mate- 
rial world formed or suggested this religious feeling, is to invert the 
order of possible things in the most unphilosophical manner. Idolatry 
is not the source of the belief in God, but is a compound of the per- 
suasion of a supernatural government, with certain extravagant and 
baseless conceptions as to the manner in whicli this government is 
exercised. 

We will quote a passage from an author who has illustrated at 
considerable length the hypothesis that all religious belief is derived 
from the worship of the elements. 

" Light, and darkness is perpetual contrast ; the succession of days 
and nights, the periodical order of the seasons ; the career of the 
brilliant luminary which regulates their course ; that of the moon his 
sister and rival ; night, and the innumerable fires which she lights in 
the blue vault of heaven ; the revolutions of the stars, which exhibit 
them for a longer or a shorter period above our horizon ; the con- 
stancy of this period in the fixed stars, its variety in the wandering 
stars, the planets ; their direct and retrograde course, their momen- 
tary rest ; the phases of the moon waxing, full, waning, divested of 
all light; the progressive motion of the sun upwards, downwards: 
the successive order of the rising and setting of the fixed stars which 
mark the different points of the course of the sun, while the various 
aspects which the earth itself assumes mark, here below also, the 
same periods of the sun's annual motion ; ... all these differ- 
ent pictures, displayed before the eyes of man, formed the great and 
magnificent spectacle by which I suppose him surrounded at the 
moment when he is about to create his gods"* 

What is this (divested of its wanton levity of expression) but to 
say, that when man has so far traced the course of nature as to be 
irresistibly impressed with the existence of order, law, variety in 
constancy, and fixity in change; of relations of form and space, du- 
ration and succession, cause and consequence, among the objects 
which surround him ; there springs up in his breast, unbidden and 



* Dupuis. Orig-ine des Cultes. 



156 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



irresistibly, the thought of superintending intelligence, of a mind 
which comprehended from the first and completely that which he 
late and partially comes to know 1 The worship of earth and sky,, of 
the host of heaven and the influences of nature, is not the ultimate 
and fundamental fact in the early history of the religious impressions 
of mankind. These are but derivative streams, impure and scanty, 
from the fountain of religious feeling which appears to be disclosed 
to us by the contemplation of the universe, as the seat of law and 
the manifestation of intellect. Time suggests to man the thought of 
eternity; space of infinity; law of intelligence; order of purpose; 
and however difficult and long a task it ma3' be to develope these 
suggestions into clear convictions, these thoughts are the real parents 
of our natural religious belief. The only relation between true re- 
ligion and the worship of the elemental world is, that the latter is the 
partial and gross perversion, the former the consistent and pure de- 
velope ment of the same original idea. 

2. The connexion of the laws of the material world with an intel- 
ligence which preconceived and instituted the law, which is thus, as 
we perceive, so generally impressed on the common apprehension 
of mankind, has also struck no less those who have studied nature 
w r ith a more systematic attention, and with the peculiar views which 
belong to science. The laws which such persons learn and study, 
seem, indeed, most naturally to lead to the conviction of an intelli- 
gence which originally gave to the law its form. 

What we call a general law is, in truth, a form of expression in- 
cluding a number of facts of like kind. The facts are separate ; the 
unity of view by which we associate them, the character of gene- 
rality and of law, resides in those relations which are the object of 
the intellect. The law once apprehended by us, takes in our minds 
the place of the facts themselves, and is said to govern or determine 
them, because it determines our anticipations of what they will be. 
But we cannot, it would seem, conceive a law, founded on such in- 
telligible relations, to govern and determine the facts themselves, 
any otherwise than by supposing also an intelligence by which these 
relations are contemplated, and these consequences realised. We 
cannot then represent to ourselves the universe governed by general 
laws otherwise than by conceiving an intelligent and conscious Deity, 
by whom these laws were originally contemplated, established, and 
applied. 

This perhaps will appear more clear, when it is considered that 
the laws of which we speak are often of an abstruse and complex 
kind, depending upon relations of space, time, number, and other 
properties, which we perceive by great attention and thought. These 
relations are often combined so variously and curiously, that the 
most subtle reasonings and calculations which we can form are re- 
quisite in order to trace their results. Can such laws be conceived 
to be instituted without any exercise of knowledge and intelligence? 



INDUCTIVE HABITS. 



159 



can material objects apply geometry and calculation to themselves ' 
can the lenses of the eye, for instance, be formed and adjusted with 
an exact suitableness to their refractive powers, while there is in the 
agency which has framed them, no consciousness of the laws of 
light, of the course of rays, of the visible properties of things ? This 
appears to be altogether inconceivable. 

Every particle of matter possesses an almost endless train of pro- 
perties, each acting according to its peculiar and fixed laws. For 
every atom of the same kind of matter these law 7 s are invariably and 
perpetually the same, while for different kinds of matter the differ- 
ence of these properties is equally constant. This constant and pre- 
cise resemblance, this variation equally constant and equally regular, 
suggest irresistibly the conception of some cause, independent of the 
atoms themselves, by which their similarity and dissimilarity, the 
agreement and difference of their deportment under the same cir- 
cumstances, have been determined. Such a view of the constitution 
of matter, as is observed by an eminent writer of our own time, ef- 
fectually destroys the idea of its external and self-existent nature, 
" by giving to each of its atoms the essential characters, at once, of 
a manufactured article and a subordinate agent"* 

That such an impression, and the consequent belief in a divine 
Author. of the universe, by whom its laws were ordained and es- 
tablished, does result from the philosophical contemplation of nature, 
will, we trust, become still more evident by tracing the effect pro- 
duced upon men's minds by the discovery of such laws and proper- 
ties as those of which we have been speaking ; and we shall there- 
fore make a few observations on this subject. 



CHAPTER V. 

ON INDUCTIVE HABITS; OR, ON THE IMPRESSION PRODUCED ON MEl^S 
MINDS BY DISCOVERING LAWS OF NATURE. 

The object of physical science is to discover such laws and pro- 
perties as those of which we have spoken in the last chapter. In 
this task, undoubtedly a progress has been made on which we maj 
well look with pleasure and admiration; yet we cannot hesitate to 
confess that the extent of our knowledge on such subject., bears no 
proportion to that of our ignorance. Of the great and comprehen- 
sive laws which rule over the widest provinces of natural phenomena, 
few have yet been disclosed to us. And the names of the philoso- 



* Herschel on the Study of Nat. Phil. Art. 28. 
14 * 



158 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



phers, whose high office it has been to detect such laws, are even 
yet far from numerous. In looking back at the path by which 
science has advanced to its present position, we see the names of 
great discoverers shine out like luminaries, few and scattered along 
the line : by far the largest portion of the space is occupied by those 
whose comparatively humble office it was to verify, to develope, to 
apply the general truths which the discoverers brought to light. 

It will readily be conceived that it is no easy matter, if it be pos- 
sible, to analyse the process of thought by which laws of nature 
have thus been discovered ; a process which, as we have said, has 
been in so few instances successfully performed. We shall not here 
make any attempt at such an analysis. But without this, we con- 
ceive it may be shown that the constitution and employment of the 
mind on which such discoveries depend, are friendly to that belief 
in a wise and good Creator and Governor of the world, which it has 
been our object to illustrate and confirm. And if it should appear 
that those who see further than their fellows into the bearings and 
dependencies of the material things and elements by which they are 
surrounded, have also been, in almost every case, earnest and for- 
ward in acknowledging the relation of all things to a supreme in- 
telligence and will; we shall be fortified in our persuasion that the 
true scientific perception of the general constitution of the universe, 
and of the mode in which events are produced and connected, is 
fitted to lead us to the conception and belief of God. 

Let us consider for a moment what takes place in the mind of a 
student of nature when he attains to the perception of a law pre- 
viously unknown, connecting the appearances which he has studied. 
A mass of facts which before seemed incoherent and unmeaning, 
assume, on a sudden, the aspect of connexion and intelligible order. 
Thus, when Kepler discovered the law which connects the periodic 
times with the diameters of the planetary orbits ; or, when Newton 
showed how this and all other known mathematical properties 
of the solar system were included in the law of universal gravita- 
tion according to the inverse square of the distance ; particular cir- 
cumstances which, before, were merely matter of independent re- 
cord, became, from that time, indissolubly conjoined by the law r s so 
discovered. The separate occurrences and facts, which might 
hitherto have seemed casual and without reason, were now seen to 
be all exemplifications of the same truth. The change is like that 
which takes place when we attempt to read a sentence written in 
difficult or imperfect characters. For a time the separate parts ap- 
pear to be disjointed and arbitrary marks ; the suggestions of possi- 
ble meanings, which succeed each other in the mind, fail, as fast as 
they are tried, in combining or accounting for these symbols : but 
at last the true supposition occurs; some words are found to 
coincide with the meaning thus assumed ; the whole line of letters 
appear to take definite shapes and to leap into their proper places ; 



INDUCTIVE HABITS. 



159 



and the truth of the happy conjecture seems to flash upon us from 
every part of the inscription. 

The discovery of laws of nature, truly and satisfactorily connect- 
ing and explaining phenomena, of which, before, the connexion and 
causes had been unknown, displays much of a similar process, of 
obscurity succeeded by evidence, of effort and perplexity followed 
by conviction and repose. The innumerable conjectures and fail- 
ures, the glimpses of light perpetually opening and as often clouded 
over, the unwearied perseverance and inexhaustible ingenuity exer- 
cised by Kepler in seeking for the laws which he finally discovered, 
are, thanks to his communicative disposition, curiously exhibited in 
his works, and have been narrated by his biographers ; and such 
efforts and alterations, modified by character and circumstances, 
must generally precede the detection of any of the wider laws and 
dependencies by which the events of the universe are regulated. 
We may readily conceive the satisfaction and delight with which, 
after this perplexity and struggle, the discoverer finds himself in 
light and tranquillity ; able to look at the province of nature which 
has been the subject of his study, and to read there an intelligible 
connexion, a sufficing reason, which no one before him had under- 
stood or apprehended. 

This step so much resembles the mode in which one intelligent 
being understands and apprehends the conceptions of another, that 
we cannot be surprised if those persons in whose minds such a pro- 
cess has taken place, have been most ready to acknowledge the 
existence and operation of a superintending intelligence, whose or- 
dinances it was their employment to study. When they had just 
read a sentence of the table of the laws of the universe, they could 
not doubt whether it had had a legislator. When they had decy- 
phered there a comprehensive and substantial truth, they could not 
believe that the letters had been thrown together by chance. They 
could not but readily acknowledge that what their faculties had ena- 
bled them to read, must have been written by some higher and pro- 
founder mind. And accordingly, we conceive it will be found, on 
examining the w T orks of those to whom we owe our knowledge oi 
the laws of nature, and especially of the wider and more compre- 
hensive laws, that such persons have been strongly and habitually 
impressed with the persuasion of a Divine Purpose and Power 
which had regulated the events which they had attended to. and or- 
dained the laws which they had detected. 

To those who have pursued science without reaching the rank 01 
discoverers ;— who have possessed a derivative knowledge oi the 
laws of nature which others had disclosed, and have employed 
themselves in tracing the consequences of such laws, and s\sicm:i- 
tising the body of truth thus produced, the above description does 
not apply; and we have not therefore in these cases the same 
ground for anticipating the same frame of mind. It anion- men oi 



160 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



science of this class, the persuasion of a supreme Intelligence has 
at some periods been less vivid and less universal, than in that higher 
class of which we have before spoken, the fact, so far as it has 
existed, may perhaps be in some degree accounted for. But whe- 
ther the view which we have to give of the mental peculiarities of 
men whose science is of this derivative kind be well founded, and 
whether the account we have above offered of that which takes 
place in the minds of original discoverers of laws in scientific re- 
searches be true, or not, it will probably be considered a matter of 
some interest to point out historically that in fact, such discoverers 
have been peculiarly in the habit of considering the world as the 
work of God. This we shall now proceed to do. 

As we have already said, the names of great discoverers are not 
very numerous. The sciences which we may look upon as having 
reached or at least approached their complete and finished form, 
are Mechanics, Hydrostatics, and Physical Astronomy. Galileo is 
the father of modern Mechanics ; Copernicus, Kepler, and Newton 
are the great names which mark the progress of Astronomy. Hy- 
drostatics shared in a great measure the fortunes of the related 
science of Mechanics ; Boyle and Pascal were the persons mainly 
active in developing its more peculiar principles. The other 
branches of ^knowledge which belong to natural philosophy, as 
Chemistry and Meteorology, are as yet imperfect, and perhaps in- 
fant sciences ; and it would be rash to presume to select, in them, 
names of equal pre-eminence with those above-mentioned : but it 
may not be difficult to show, with sufficient evidence, that the effect 
of science upon the authors of science is, in these subjects as in the 
former ones, far other than to alienate their minds from religious 
trains of thought, and a habit of considering the world as the work 
of God. 

We shall not dwell much on the first of the above-mentioned 
great names, Galileo; for his scientific merit consisted rather in 
adopting the sound philosophy of others, as in the x case of the Coper- 
nican system, and in combating prevalent errors, as in the case of 
the Aristotelian doctrines concerning motion, than in any marked 
and prominent discovery of new principles. Moreover the mecha- 
nical laws which he had a share in bringing to light, depending as 
they did, rather on detached experiments and transient facts, than 
on observation of the general course of the universe, could not so 
clearly suggest any reflexion on the government of the world at 
that period, as they did afterwards when Newton showed their 
bearing on the cosmical system. Yet Galileo, as a man of philoso- 
phical and inventive mind, who produced a great effect on the 
progress of physical knowledge, is a person whose opinions must 
naturally interest us, engaged in our present course of reasoning. 
There is in his writings little which bears upon religious views, as 
there is in the nature of his works little to lead him to such subjects. 



INDUCTIVE HABITS. 



16] 



Yet strong expressions of piety are not wanting, both in his letters, 
and in his published treatises. The persecution which he underwent, 
on account of his writings in favour of the Copernican system, was 
grounded, not on his opposition to the general truths of natural re- 
ligion, which is our main concern at present, nor even on any sup- 
posed rejection of any articles of Christian faith, but on the alleged 
discrepancy between his adopted astronomical views and the decla- 
rations of scripture. Some of his remarks may interest the reader. 

In his third dialogue on the Copernican system he has occasion to 
speak of the opinion which holds all parts of the world to be 
framed for man's use alone: and to this he says, s< I would that we 
should not so shorten the arm of God in the government of human 
affairs; but that we should rest in this, that we are certain that 
God and nature are so occupied in the government of human af- 
fairs, that they could not more attend to us if they were charged 
with the care of the human race alone." In the same spirit, when 
some objected to the asserted smallness of the Medicean stars, or 
satellites of Jupiter, and urged this as a reason w T hy they were un- 
worthy the regard of philosophers, he replied that they are the 
works of God's power, the objects of His care, and therefore may 
well be considered as sublime subjects for man's study. 

In the Dialogues on Mechanics, there occur those observations 
concerning the use of the air-bladder in fishes, and concerning the 
adaptation of the size of animals to the strength of the materials 
of which they are framed, which have often since been adopted by 
writers on the wisdom of Providence. The last of the dialogues 
on the system of the world is closed by a religious reflection, put 
in the mouth of the interlocutor who usually expresses Galileo's own 
opinions. " While it is permitted us to speculate concerning the 
constitution of the world, we are also taught (perhaps in order 
that the activity of the human mind may not pause or languish) 
that our powers do not enable us to comprehend the works of His 
hands. May success therefore attend this intellectual exercise, 
thus permitted and appointed for us ; by which we recognise and 
admire the greatness of God the more, in proportion as we find 
ourselves the less able to penetrate the profound abysses of his 
wisdom." And that this train of thought was habitual to the philo- 
sopher we have abundant evidence in many other parts ol his 
writings. He had already said in the same dialogue, " Nature (or 
God, as he elsewhere speaks) employs means in an admirable 
and inconceivable manner; admirable, that is, and inconeei\ ■able to 
us, but not to her, who brings about with consummate facility and 
simplicity things which affect our intellect with infinite astonish- 
ment. That which is to us most difficult to understand is to her 
most easv to execute." 

The establishment of the Copernican and Newtonian views < 
the motions of the solar system and their causes, were prooablj 



162 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



the occasions on which religious but unphilosophical men entertained 
the strongest apprehensions that the belief in the government of God 
may be weakened when w r e thus " thrust some mechanic cause into 
his place." It is therefore fortunate that we can show, not only that 
this ought not to occur, from the reason of the thing, but also that 
in fact the persons who are the leading characters in the progress 
of these opinions were men of clear and fervent piety. 

In the case of Copernicus himself it does not appear that, origi- 
nally, any apprehensions were entertained of any dangerous discre- 
pancy between his doctrines and the truths of religion, either natural 
or revealed. The work which contains these memorable disco- 
veries was addressed to Pope Paul III., the head, at that time, 
(1543) of the religious world ; and was published, as the author 
states in the preface, at the urgent entreaty of friends, one of whom 
was a cardinal, and another a bishop.* " I know," he says, " that 
the thoughts of a philosopher are far removed from the judgment 
of the vulgar ; since it is his study to search out truth in. all things, 
as far as that is permitted by God to human reason." And though 
the doctrines are for the most part stated as portions of a mathe- 
matical calculation, the explanation of the arrangement by which 
the sun is placed in the centre of the system is accompanied by a 
natural reflexion of a religious cast ; " Who in this fair temple w r ould 
place this lamp in any other or better place than there whence it 
may illuminate the whole? We find then under this ordination 
an admirable symmetry of the world, and a certain harmonious con- 
nexion of the motion and magnitude of the orbs, such as in any 
other way cannot be found. Thus the progressions and regressions 
of the planets all arise from the same cause, the motion of the 
earth. And that no such movements are seen in the fixed stars, 
argues their immense distance from us, which causes the apparent 
magnitude of the earth's annual course to become evanescent. So 
great, in short, is this divine fabric of the great and good God ;"f 
*' this best and most regular artificer of the universe," as he elsewhere 
speaks. 

Kepler was the person, who by further studying " the connexion 
of the motions and magnitude of the orbs," to which Copernicus 
had thus drawn the attention of astronomers, detected the laws of 
this connexion, and prepared the way for the discovery, by Newton, 
of the mechanical laws and causes of such motions. Kepler was 
a man of strong and lively piety ; and the exhortation which he ad- 
dresses to his reader before entering on the exposition of some of 

*Amici me cunctantem atque etiam reluctantem, retraxerunt, inter quos primus 
fuit Nicolaus Scbonbergius, Cardinalis Capuanus, in omni genere literatum Celebris; 
proximus ille vir mei amantissimus Tidemannus Gisius, episcopus Culmensis, sacra- 
rum ut est et omnium bonarum literarum studiosissimus. — De Revolutionibus. Praef. 
ad Paulum III. 
Lib. i. ex. 



INDUCTIVE HABITS. 



103 



his discoveries, may be quoted not only for its earnestness but its 
reasonableness also. "I beseech my reader, that not unmindful of 
the divine goodness bestowed on man, he do with me praise and 
celebrate the wisdom and greatness of the Creator, which 1 open to 
him from a more inward explication of the form of the world, from 
a searching of causes, from a detection of the errors of vision : and 
that thus, not only in the firmness and stability of the earth he per- 
ceive with gratitude the preservation of all living things in nati re 
as the gift of God, but also that in its motion, so recondite, so admi- 
rable, he acknowledge the wisdom of the Creator. But him who is 
too dull to receive this science, or too weak to believe the Copernican 
system without harm to his piety, him, I say, I advise that, leaving 
the school of astronomy, and condemning, if he please, any doc- 
trines of the philosophers, he follow his own path, and desist from 
this wandering through the universe, and lifting up his natural eyes, 
with which alone he can see, pour himself out from his own heart in 
praise of God the Creator; being certain that he gives no less wor- 
ship to God than the astronomer, to whom God has given to sec 
more clearly with his inward eye, and who, for what he has him- 
self discovered, both can and will glorify God." 

The next great step in our knowledge of the universe, the dis- 
covery of the mechanical causes by which its motions are produced, 
and of their laws, has in modern times sometimes been supposed, 
both by the friends of religion and by others, to be unfavourable 
to the impression of an intelligent first cause. That such a suppo- 
sition is founded in error we have offered what appear to us insur- 
mountable reasons for believing. That in the mind of the great dis- 
coverer of this mechanical cause, Newton, the impression of a 
creating and presiding Deity was confirmed, not shaken, by all his 
discoveries, is so well known that it is almost superfluous to insist 
upon the fact. His views of the tendency of science invested it 
with no dangers of this kind. ; ' The business of natural philosophy 
is," he says, (Optics, Qu. 28.) " to argue from phenomena without 
eigning hypotheses, and to deduce causes from effects, till we come 
to the very first cause, which certainly is not mechanical." "Though 
every true step made in this philosophy brings us not immediately to 
the knowledge of the first cause, yet it brings us nearer to it and is 
on that account highly to be valued." The Scholium, or note, 
which concludes this great work, the Principia, is a well known and 
most striking evidence on this point, "This beautiful system ol 
sun, planets, and comets, could have its origin in no other way 
than by the purpose and command of an intelligent and powerful 
Being. He governs all things, not as the soul of the world, but 
as the lord of the universe. He is not only God, but Lord or 
Governor. We know him only by his properties and attributes, by 
the wise and admirable structure of things around us, and by their 



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final causes ; we admire him on account of his perfections, we 
venerate and worship him on account of his government." 

Without making any further quotations, it must be evident to the 
reader that the succession of great philosophers through whom 
mankind have been led to the knowledge of the greatest of scien- 
tific truths, the law of universal gravitation, did, for their parts, see 
the truths which they disclosed to men in such a light that their 
religious feelings, their reference of the world to an intelligent 
Creator and Preserver, their admiration of his attributes, were 
exalted rather than impaired by the insight which they obtained 
into the structure of the universe. 

Having shown this with regard to the most perfect portion of 
human knowledge, our knowledge of the motions of the solar sys- 
tem, we shall adduce a few other passages, illustrating the preva- 
lence of the same fact in other departments of experimental science; 
although, for reasons which have already been intimated, we con- 
ceive that sciences of experiment do not conduct so obviously as 
sciences of observation do the impression of a Divine Legislator of 
the material world. 

The science of Hydrostatics was constructed in a great measure 
by the founders of the sister science of Mechanics. Of those who 
were employed in experimentally establishing the principles pecu- 
liarly belonging to the doctrine of fluids, Pascal and Boyle are two 
of the most eminent names. That these two great philosophers 
were not only religious, but both of them remarkable for their fer- 
vent and pervading devotion, is too well known to be dwelt on. 
With regard to Pascal, however, we ought not perhaps to pass over 
an opinion of his, that the existence of God cannot be proved from 
the external world. " I do not undertake to prove this," says he, 
" not only because I do not feel myself sufficiently strong to find in 
nature that which shall convince obstinate atheists, but because 
such knowledge without Jesus Christ is useless and sterile." It is 
obvious that such a state of mind would prevent this writer from 
encouraging or dwelling upon the grounds of natural religion; 
while yet he himself is an example of that which we wish to 
illustrate, that those who have obtained the furthest insight into 
nature, have been in all ages firm believers in God. "Nature," 
he says in another place, " has perfections in order to show that 
she is the image of God, and defects in order to show that she is 
only his image."* 

Boyle was not only a most pious man as well as a great philo- 
sopher, but he exerted himself very often and earnestly in his 
writings to show the bearing of his natural philosophy upon his 
views of the Divine attributes, and of the government of the world. 
Many of these dissertations convey trains of thought and reason- 

* Pensees, Art. viii. I. 



IXDUCTIVE HABIT.-. 



165 



ing which have never been surpassed for their combination of judi- 
cious sobriety in not pressing his arguments too far, with fervent 
devotion in his conceptions of the Divine nature. As examples 
of these merits, we might adduce almost any portion of his tri its 
on these subjects; for instance, his " Inquiry into the Pinal Causes 
of Natural Things;" his "Free Inquiry into the Vulgar Notion of 
Nature;" his "Christian Virtuoso;" and his Essay entitled " The 
High Veneration Man's Intellect owes to God." It would be super- 
fluous to quote at any length from these works. We may observe, 
however, that he notices that general fact which we are at present 
employed in exemplifying, that " in almost all ages and countries 
the generality of philosophers and contemplative men were per- 
suaded of the existence of a Deity from the consideration of the 
phenomena of the universe; whose fabric and conduct they ration- 
ally concluded could not justly be ascribed either to chance or 
to any other cause than a Divine Being." And in speaking of the 
religious uses of science, he says: " Though I am willing to grunt 
that some impressions of God's wisdom are so conspicuous that 
even a superficial philosopher may thence infer that the author of 
such works must be a wise agent ; yet how wise an agent he 
has in these works expressed himself to be, none but an experi- 
mental philosopher can well discern. And 'tis not by a slight sur- 
vey, but by a diligent and skilful scrutiny, of the works of God, that 
a man must be, by a rational and affective conviction, engaged to 
acknowledge that the author of nature ' is wonderful in counsel, and 
excellent in working.' " 

After the mechanical properties of fluids, the laws of the operation 
of the chemical and physical properties of the elements about us, 
offer themselves to our notice. The relations of heat and of moisture 
in particular, which play so important a part, as we have seen, in 
the economy of our world, have been the subject of various re- 
searches: and they have led to views of the operation of such 
agents, some of which we have endeavoured to present to the 
reader, and to point out the remarkable arrangements by which 
their beneficial operation is carried on. That the discoverers of the 
laws by which such operations are regulated, were not insensible 
to the persuasion of a Divine care and contrivance which those ar- 
rangements suggest, is what we should expect, in agreement with 
what we have already said, and it is what we find. Among the 
names of the philosophers to whom we owe our knowledge on 
these subjects, there are none greater than those of Black, the dis- 
coverer of the laws of latent heat, and Dalton, who first gave 
us a true view of the mode in which watery vapour exists and 
operates in the atmosphere. With regard to the former ol these 
philosophers, we shall quote Dr. Thomson's account ol the news 



166 



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which the laws of latent heat suggested to the discoverer.* " Dr. 
Black quickly perceived the vast importance of this discovery, and 
took a pleasure in laying before his students a view of the bene- 
ficial effects of this habitude of heat in the economy of nature. 
During the summer season a vast magazine of heat is accumu- 
lated in the water, which by gradually emerging during congelation 
serves to temper the cold of winter. Were it not for this accumu- 
lation of heat in water and other bodies, the sun would no sooner go 
a few degrees to the south of the equator than we should feel all 
the horrors of winter." 

In the same spirit are Mr. Dalton's reflexions, after pointing out 
the laws which regulate the balance of evaporation and rain,f which 
he himself first clearly explained. " It is scarcely possible," says 
he, " to contemplate without admiration the beautiful system of na- 
ture by which the surface of the earth is continually supplied with 
water, and that unceasing circulation of a fluid so essentially ne- 
cessary to the very being of the animal and vegetable kingdom 
takes place." 

Such impressions appear thus to rise irresistibly in the breasts of 
men, when they obtain a sight, for the first time, of the varied play 
and comprehensive connexions of the laws by which the business of 
the material world is carried on and its occurrences brought to pass. 
To dwell upon or develope such reflexions is not here our business. 
Their general prevalence in the minds of those to whom these first 
views of new truths are granted, has been, we trust, sufficiently 
illustrated. Nor are the names adduced above, distinguished as 
they are, brought forwards as authorities merely. We do not claim 
for the greatest discoverers in the realms of science any immunity 
from error. In their general opinions they may, as others may, 
judge or reason ill. The articles of their religious belief may be as 
easily and as widely as of other men's, imperfect, perverted, un- 
profitable. But on this one point, the tendency of our advances in 
scientific knowledge of the universe to lead us up to a belief in a 
most wise maker and master of the universe, we conceive that they 
who make these advances, and who feel, as an original impression, 
that which others feel only by receiving their teaching, must be 
looked to with a peculiar attention and respect. And what their 
impressions have commonly been, we have thus endeavoured to 
show. 

* Thomson's Hist, of Chemistry, vol. i. 321. 
f Manch. Mem. vol. v. p. 346. 



DEDUCTIVE HABITS. 



1G7 



CHAPTER VI. 

ON DEDUCTIVE HABITS; OR, ON THE IMPRESSION PRODUCED OH NElf'S 
MINDS BY TRACING THE CONSEQUENCES OF ASCERTAINED LAWS. 

The opinion illustrated in the last chapter, that the advances 
which men make in science tend to impress upon them the reality 
of the Divine government of the world, has often been controverted. 
Complaints have been made, and especially of late years, that the 
growth of piety has not always been commensurate with the growth 
of knowledge, in the minds of those who make nature their study. 
Views of an irreligious character have been entertained, it is some- 
times said, by persons eminently well instructed in all the discoveries 
of modern times, no less than by the superficial and ignorant. 
Those who have been supposed to deny or to doubt the existence, 
the providence, the attributes of God, have in many cases been 
men of considerable eminence and celebrity for their attainments in 
science. The opinion that this is the case, appears to be extensively 
diffused, and this persuasion has probably often produced inquietude 
and grief in the breasts of pious and benevolent men. 

This opinion, concerning the want of religious convictions among 
those who have made natural philosophy their leading pursuit, has 
probably gone far beyond the limits of the real fact. But if we 
allow that there are any strong cases to countenance such an 
opinion, it may be worth our while to consider how far they admit 
of any satisfactory explanation. The fact appears at first sight to 
be at variance with the view we have given of the impression pro- 
duced by scientific discovery ; and it is moreover always a matter 
of uneasiness and regret, to have men of eminent talents and know- 
ledge opposed to doctrines which we consider as important truths. 

We conceive that an explanation of such cases, if they should 
occur, may be found in a very curious and important circumstance 
belonging to the process by which our physical sciences are formed. 
The first discovery of new general truths, and the developcmcnt of 
these truths when once obtained, are two operations extremely dif- 
ferent; imply different mental habits, and may easily be associated 
! with different views and convictions on points out of the reach oi 
scientific demonstration. There would therefore be nothing sur- 
prising, or inconsistent with what we have maintained above it it 
should appear that while original discoverers of laws of nature are 
• peculiarly led, as we have seen, to believe the existence ol a su- 
preme intelligence and purpose; the far greater number of cultiva- 
tors of science, whose employment it is to learn from others these 
general laws, and to trace, combine, and apply their consequences, 



168 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



should have no clearness of conviction or security from error on 
this subject, beyond what belongs to persons of any other class. 

This will, perhaps, become somewhat more evident by consider- 
ing a little more closely the distinction of the two operations of dis- 
covery and developement, of which we have spoken above, and the 
tendency which the habitual prosecution of them may be expected 
to produce in the thoughts and views of the student. 

We have already endeavoured in some measure to describe that 
which takes place when a new law of nature is discovered. A 
number of facts in which, before, order and connexion did not ap- 
pear at all, or appeared by partial and contradictory glimpses, are 
brought into a point of view in which order and connexion become 
their essential character. It is seen that each fact is but a different 
manifestation of the same principle ; that each particular is that 
which it is, in virtue of the same general truth. The inscription is 
decyphered ; the enigma is guessed ; the principle is understood ; 
the truth is enunciated. 

When this step is once made, it becomes possible to deduce from 
the truth thus established, a train of consequences often in no small 
degree long and complex. The process of making these inferences 
may properly be described by the word Deduction, while the very 
different process by which a new principle is collected from an as- 
semblage of facts, has been termed Induction ; the truths so ob- 
tained and their consequences constitute the results of the Inductive 
Philosophy ; which is frequently and rightly described as a science 
which ascends from particular facts to general principles, and then 
descends again from these general principles to particular applica- 
tions and exemplifications. 

While the great and important labours by which science is really 
advanced consist in the successive steps of the inductive ascent, in 
the discovery of new laws perpetually more and more general ; by 
far the greater part of our books of physical science unavoidably 
consists in deductive reasoning exhibiting the consequences and ap- 
plications of the laws which have been discovered ; and the greater 
part of writers upon science have their minds employed in this pro- 
cess of deduction and application. 

This is true of many of those who are considered, and justly, as 
distinguished and profound philosophers. In the mechanical philoso- 
phy, that science which applies the" properties of matter and the 
laws of motion to the explanation of the phenomena of the world, 
this is peculiarly the case. The laws, when once discovered, occu- 
py little room in their statement, and when no longer contested, are 
not felt to need a lengthened proof. But their consequences require 
far more room and far more intellectual labour. If we take, for 
example, the laws of motion and the law of universal gravitation, we 
can express in a few lines, that which, when developed, represents 
and explains an innumerable mass of natural phenomena. But here 



DEDUCTIVE HABITS. 



169 



the course of developement is necessarily so long, the reasoning con- 
tains so many steps, the considerations on which it rests are so mi- 
nute and refined, the complication of cases and of consequences is 
so vast, and even the involution arising from the properties of space 
and number so serious, that the most consummate subtlety, the most 
active invention, the most tenacious power of inference, the widest 
spirit of combination, must be tasked and tasked severely, in order 
to solve the problems which belong to this portion of science. And 
the persons who have been employed on these problems, and who 
have brought to them the high and admirable qualities which such 
an office requires, have justly excited in a very eminent degree the 
admiration which mankind feel for great intellectual powers. Their 
names occupy a distinguished place in literary history ; and proba- 
bly there are no scientific reputations of the last century higher, and 
none more merited, than those earned by the great mathematicians 
who have laboured with such wonderful success in unfolding the 
mechanism of the heavens ; such for instance as D'Alembert, Clai- 
rault, Euler, Lagrange, Laplace. 

But it is still important to recollect, that the mental employments 
of men, w 7 hile they are occupied in this portion of the task of the 
formation of science, are altogether difFerent from that which 
takes place in the mind of a discoverer, who, for the first time, 
seizes the principle which connects phenomena before unexplained, 
and thus adds another original truth to our knowledge of the uni- 
verse. In explaining, as the great mathematicians just mentioned 
have done, the phenomena of the solar system by means of the 
law of universal gravitation, the conclusions at which they arrived 
were really included in the truth of the law itself, whatever skill 
and sagacity it might require to develope and extricate them from 
the general principle. But when Newton conceived and established 
the law itself, he added to our knowledge something which was 
not contained in any truth previously known, nor deducible from 
it by any course of mere reasoning. And the same distinction, in 
all other cases, obtains, between these processes which establish the 
principles, generally few and simple, on which our sciences rest, 
and those reasonings and calculations, founded on the principles 
thus obtained, which constitute by far the larger portion of the 
common treatises on the most complete of the sciences now cul- 
tivated. 

Since the difference is so great between the process of inductive 
generalization of physical facts, and that of mathematical deduction 
of consequences, it is not surprising that the two processes should 
imply different mental powers and habits. However rare the 
mathematical talent, in its highest excellence, may be, it is far 
more common, if we are to judge from the history of science, than 
the genius which divines the general laws of nature. We have 

15* 



170 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



several good mathematicians in every age; we have few great dis- 
coverers in the whole history of our species. 

The distinction being thus clearly established between original 
discovery and derivative speculation, between the ascent to prin- 
ciples and the descent from them, we have further to observe, that 
the habitual and exclusive prosecution of the latter process may 
sometimes exercise an unfavourable effect on the mind of the 
student, and may make him less fitted and ready to apprehend and 
accept truths different from those with which his reasonings are 
concerned. We conceive, for example, that a person labours under 
gross error, who believes the phenomena of the world to be alto- 
gether produced by mechanical causes, and who excludes from 
his view all reference to an Intelligent First Cause and Governor. 
But we conceive that reasons may be shown which make it more 
probable that error of such a kind should find a place in the mind of 
a person of deductive, than of inductive habits; — of a mere mathe- 
matician or logician, than of one who studies the facts of the 
natural world and detects their laws. 

The person whose mind is employed in reducing to law and 
order and intelligible cause the complex facts of the material 
w 7 orld, is compelled to look beyond the present state of his know- 
ledge, and to turn his thoughts to the existence of principles higher 
than those which he yet possesses. He has seen occasions when 
facts that at first seemed incoherent and anomalous, were reduced to 
rule and connexion ; and when limited rules were discovered to 
be included in some rule of superior generality. He knows that all 
facts and appearances, all partial laws, however confused and 
casual they at present seem, must still, in reality, have this same 
kind of bearing and dependence ; — must be bound together by 
some undiscovered principle of order; — must proceed from some 
cause working by most steady rules; — must be included in some 
wide and fruitful general truth. He cannot therefore consider any 
principles which he has already obtained, as the ultimate and suffi- 
cient reason of that which he sees. There must be some higher 
principle, some ulterior reason. The effort and struggle by which 
he endeavours to extend his view, makes him feel that there is a 
region of truth not included in his present physical knowledge ; the 
very imperfection of the light in which he works his way, suggests 
to him that there must be a source of clearer illumination at a dis- 
tance from him. 

We must allow that it is scarcely possible to describe in a manner 
free from some vagueness and obscurity, the effect thus produced 
upon the mind by the efforts which it makes to reduce natural 
phenomena to general laws. But we trust it will still be allowed 
that there is no difficulty in seeing clearly that a different iufluence 
may result from this process, and from the process of deductive 
reasoning which forms the main employment of the mathematical 



DEDUCTIVE HABITS. 



171 



cultivators and systematic expositors of physical science in modern 
times, feuch persons are not led by their pursuits to anything be- 
yond the general principles, which form the basis of their explana- 
tions and applications. They acquiesce in these ; they make i! ese 
their ultimate grounds of truth; and they are entirely employed in 
unfolding the particular truths which are involved m the general 
truth. Their thoughts dwell little upon the possibility of the laws 
of nature being other than we find them to be, or on the reasons 
why they are not so; and still less on those facts and phenomena 
which philosophers have not yet reduced to any rule; which are 
lawless to us, though we know that, in reality, they are governed 
by some principle of order and harmony. On the contrary, by as- 
suming perpetually the existing laws as the basis of their reasoning, 
without question or doubt, and by employing such language that 
these laws can be expressed in the simplest and briefest form, they 
are led to think and believe as if these laws were necessarily and 
inevitably what they are. Some mathematicians indeed have main- 
tained that the highest laws of nature with which we are acquainted, 
the laws of motion and the law of universal gravitation, are not only 
necessarily true, but are even self-evident and certain a priori, like 
the truths of geometry. And though the mathematical cultivator 
of the science of mechanics may not adopt this as his speculative 
opinion, he may still be so far influenced by the tendency from which 
it springs, as to rest in the mechanical laws of the universe as ul- 
timate and all-sufficient principles, without seeing in them any evi- 
dence of their having been selected and ordained, and thus with- 
out ascending from the world to the thought of an Intelligent 
Ruler. He may thus substitute for the Deity certain axioms and 
first principles, as the cause of all. And the follower of New ton 
may run into the error with which he is sometimes charged, of 
thrusting some mechanic cause into the place of God, if he do not 
raise his views, as his master did, to some higher cause, to some 
source of all forces, laws, and principles. 

When, therefore, we consider the mathematicians who are cm- 
ployed in successfully applying the mechanical philosophy, as men 
well deserving of honour from those who take an interest in the 
progress of science, we do rightly; but it is still to be recollected, 
that in doing this they are not carrying us to any higher point of 
view in the knowledge of nature than we had attained before: they 
are only unfolding the consequences, which were already virtually 
in our possession," because they were implied in principles already 
discovered : — they are adding to our knowledge of effects, bul nol to 
our knowledge of causes: — they arc not making any advance ill 
that progress of which Newton spoke, and in which he made so vasl 
a stride, in which "every step made brings us nearer to the know- 
ledge of the first cause, and is on that account highly to be valued." 
And as in this advance they have no peculiar privileges or ad- 



172 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



vantages, their errors of opinion concerning it, if they err, are no 
more to be wondered at, than those of common men ; and need as 
little disturb or distress us, as if those who committed them had 
confined themselves to the study of arithmetic or of geometry. If 
we can console and tranquillize ourselves concerning the defective 
or perverted views of religious truth entertained by any of our 
fellow men, we need find no additional difficulty in doing so when 
those who are mistaken are great mathematicians, who have added 
to the riches and elegance of the mechanical philosophy. And if we 
are seeking for extraneous grounds of trust and comfort on this 
subject, we may find them in the reflection ; — that, whatever may 
be the opinions of those who assume the causes and laws of that 
philosophy and reason from them, the views of those admirable 
and ever-honoured men who first caught sight of these laws and 
causes, impressed them with the belief that this is " the fabric of a 
great and good God ;" that " it is man's duty to pour out his soul 
in praise of the Creator ;" and that all this beautiful system must 
be referred to " a first cause, which is certainly not mechanical." 

2. We may thus, with the greatest propriety, deny to the mecha- 
nical philosophers and mathematicians of recent times any authority 
with regard to their views of the administration of the universe ; we 
have no reason whatever to expect from their speculations any 
help, when we attempt to ascend to the first cause and supreme 
ruler of the universe. But we might perhaps go further, and assert 
that they are in some respects less likely than men employed in other 
pursuits, to make any clear advance towards such a subject of specu- 
lation. Persons whose thoughts are thus entirely occupied in de- 
duction are apt to forget that this is, after all, only one employment 
of the reason among more ; only one mode of arriving at truth, 
needing to have its deficiencies completed by another. Deductive 
reasoners, those who cultivate science, of whatever kind, by means 
of mathematical and logical processes alone, may acquire an exag- 
gerated feeling of the amount and value of their labours. Such 
employments, from the clearness of the notions involved in them, 
the irresistible concatenation of truths which they unfold, the sub- 
tlety which they require, and their entire success in that which 
they attempt, possess a peculiar fascination for the intellect. Those 
who pursue such studies have generally a contempt and impatience 
of the pretensions of all those other portions of our knowledge, 
where from the nature of the case, or the small progress hitherto 
made in their cultivation, a more vague and loose kind of reasoning 
seems to be adopted. Now if this feeling be carried so far as to 
make the reasoner suppose that these mathematical and logical 
processes can lead him to all the knowledge and all the certainty 
which we need, it is clearly a delusive feeling. For it is confessed 
on all hands, that all which mathematics or which logic can do, is 
to develope and extract those truths, as conclusions, which were in 



DEDUCTIVE HABITS. 



178 



reality involved in the principles on which our reasonings pro- 
ceeded.* And this being allowed, we cannot but ask how we ob- 
tain these principles'? from what other source of knowledge we 
derive the original truths which we thus pursue into detail ? since 
it is manifest that such principles cannot be derived from the proper 
stores of mathematics or logic. These methods can generate no 
new truth; and all the grounds and elements of the knowledge 
which, through them, we can acquire, must necessarily come from 
some extraneous source. It is certain, therefore, that the mathe- 
matician and the logician must derive from some process different 
from their own, the substance and material of all our knowledge, 
whether physical or metaphysical, physiological or moral. This 
process, by which we acquire our first principles, (without pretend- 
ing here to analyse it,) is obviously the general course of human 
experience, and the natural exercise of the understanding ; our inter- 
course with matter and with men, and the consequent growth in 
our minds of convictions and conceptions such as our reason can 
deal with, either by her systematic or unsystematic methods of pro- 
cedure. Supplies from this vast and inexhaustible source of ori- 
ginal truths are requisite, to give any value whatever to the re- 
sults of our deductive processes, whether mathematical or logical ; 
while, on the other hand, there are many branches of our knowledge, 
in which we possess a large share of original and derivative con- 
victions and truths, but where it is nevertheless at present quite im- 
possible to erect our knowledge into a complete system ; — to state 
our primary and independent truths, and to show how on these all 
the rest depend by the rules of art. If the mathematician is repelled 
from speculations on morals or politics, on the beautiful or the 
right, because the reasonings which they involve have not mathe- 
matical precision and conclusiveness, he will remain destitute ol 
much of the most valuable knowledge which man can acquire. 
And if he attempts to mend the matter by giving to treatises on 
morals, or politics, or criticism, a form and a phraseology borrowed 
from the very few tolerably complete physical sciences which ex- 
ist, it will be found that he is compelled to distort and damage 
the most important truths, so as to deprive them of their true shape 
and import, in order to force them into their places in his artificial 
svstem. 

" If therefore, as we have said, the mathematical philosopher dwells 
in his own bright and pleasant land of deductive reasoning, till he 
turns with disgust from all the speculations, necessarily less clear 
and conclusive, in which his imagination, his practical faculties, nia 

* " Since all reasoning may be resolved into syllogisms, and since- in a syllogism 
the premises do virtually assert the conclusion, it follows at once, that no new irutn 
can be elicited by any process of reasoning."— Wkatelif* Logic, p. 223. 

Mathematics is the logic of quantity, and to this science the observauon nere 
quoted is strictly applicable. 



174 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



moral sense, his capacity of religious hope and belief, are to be 
called into action, he becomes, more than common men, liable to 
miss the road to truths of extreme consequence. 

This is so obvious, that charges are frequently brought against 
the study of mathematics, as unfitting men for those occupations 
which depend upon our common instinctive convictions and feelings, 
upon the unsystematic exercise of the understanding with regard to 
common relations and common occurrences. Bonaparte observed 
of Laplace, when he was placed in a public office of considerable 
importance, that he did not discharge it in so judicious and clear- 
sighted a manner as his high intellectual fame might lead most per- 
sons to expect* " He sought," that great judge of character said, 
" subtleties in every subject, and carried into his official employ- 
ments the spirit of the method of infinitely small quantities," by 
which the mathematician solves his more abstruse problems. And 
the complaint that mathematical studies make men insensible to 
moral evidence and to poetical beauties, is so often repeated as to 
show that some opposition of tendency is commonly perceived be- 
tween that exercise of the intellect w 7 hich mathematics requires and 
those processes which go on in our minds when moral character or 
imaginative beauty is the subject of our contemplation. 

Thus, while we acknowledge all the beauty and all the value of 
the mathematical reasonings by which the consequences of our 
genera] laws are deduced, we may yet consider it possible that a 
philosopher, whose mind has been mainly employed, and his intel- 
lectual habits determined, ^by this process of deduction, may possess, 
in a feeble and imperfect degree only, some of those faculties by 
which truth is attained, and especially those truths which regard 
our relation to that mind, the origin of all law, the source of first 
principles, which must be immeasurably elevated above all deriva- 
tive truths. It would, therefore, be far from surprising, if there 
should be found, among the great authors of the developements of 
the mechanical philosophy, some who had refused to refer the phe- 
nomena of the universe to a supreme mind, purpose, and will. And 
though this world be, to a believer in the Being and government of 
God, a matter of sorrow and pain, it need not excite more surprise 
than if the same were true of a person of most ordinary endow- 
ments, when it is recollected in what a disproportionate manner the 
various faculties of such a philosopher may have been cultivated. 
And our apprehensions of injury to mankind from the influence of 
such examples will diminish, when we consider, that those mathe- 

* A 1'interieur le ministre Quinette fat remplace par Laplace, geometre du pre- 
mier rang 1 , mais qui ne tarda pas a se montrer administrateur plus que mediocre : 
des son premier travail les consuls s'apercurent qu'ils s'etaient trompes : Laplace ne 
saisissait aucune question sous son vrai point de vue ; il cherchait des subtilites par- 
tout, n'avait que des idees problematiques, et portait enfin l'esprit des infiniment 
petits dans l'administration. — MtZmoires ccrits d Ste. Hekne, i. 3. 



DEDUCTIVE HABITS. J 7 

maticians whose minds have been less partially exercised, the greal 
discoverers of the truths which others apply, the philosophers who 
have looked upwards as well as downwards, to the unknown as 
well as to the known, to ulterior as well as proximate principles, 
have never rested in this narrow and barren doctrine; but have 
perpetually looked forwards, beyond mere material laws and causes, 
to a First Cause of the moral and material world, to which each 
advance in philosophy might bring them nearer, though it must i 
remain indefinitely beyond their reach. 

It scarcely needs, perhaps, to be noticed, that what we here re- 
present as the possible source of error is, not the perfection of the 
mathematical habits of the mind, but the deficiency of the habit of 
apprehending truth of other kinds ;— not a clear insight into the 
mathematical consequences of principles, but a want of a clear view 
of the nature and foundation of principles ;— not the talent for 
generalizing geometrical or mechanical relations, but the tendency 
to erect such relations into ultimate truths and efficient causes. 
The most consummate mathematical skill may accompany and he 
auxiliary to the most earnest piety, as it often has been. And an 
entire command of the conceptions and processes of mathematics 
is not only consistent with, but is the necessary condition and prin- 
cipal instrument of every important step in the discovery of physi- 
cal principles. Newton was eminent above the philosophers of his 
time, in no one talent so much as in the power of mathematical de- 
duction. When he had caught sight of the law of universal gravi- 
tation, he traced it to its consequences with a rapidity, a dexterity, 
a beauty of mathematical reasoning which no other person could 
approach; so that on this account, if there had been no other, the 
establishment of the genera] law was possible to him alone. He 
still stands at the head of mathematicians as well as of philosophical 
discoverers. But it never appeared to him, as it may have ap- 
peared to some mathematicians who have employed themselves on 
his discoveries, that the general law was an ultimate and sufficient prin- 
ciple: that the point to which he had hung his chain of deduction was 
the highest point in the universe. Lagrange, a modern mathemati- 
cian of transcendent genius, was in the habit of saying, in his as- 
pirations after future fame, that Newton was fortunate in having had 
the system of the world for his problem, since its theory could be 
discovered once only. But Newton himself appears to have had no 
such persuasion that the problem he had solved was unique and 
final; he laboured to reduce gravity to some higher law, and the 
forces of other physical operations to an analogy with those ol 
gravity, and declared that all these were but steps in our advance 
towards a first cause. Between us and this first cause, the source 
of the universe and of its laws, we cannot doubt that there inter- 
vene many successive steps of possible discovery and generaliza- 
tion, not less wide and striking than the discovery of universal gra- 



176 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



vitation : but it is still more certain that no extent or success of 
physical investigation can carry us to any point which is not at an 
immeasurable distance from an adequate knowledge of Him. 



CHAPTER VII. 

ON FINAL CAUSES. 

We have pointed out a great number of instances where the 
mode in which the arrangements of nature produce their effect, sug- 
gests, as we conceive, the belief that this effect is to be considered 
as the end and purpose of these arrangements. The impression 
which thus arises, of design and intention exercised in the formation 
of the world, or of the reality of Final Causes, operates on men's 
minds so generally, and increases so constantly on every additional 
examination of the phenomena of the universe, that we cannot but 
suppose such a belief to have a deep and stable foundation. And 
we conceive that in several of the comparatively few cases in which 
such a belief has been rejected, the averseness to it has arisen from 
the influence of some of the causes mentioned in the last chapter ; 
the exclusive pursuit, namely, of particular trains and modes of 
reasoning, till the mind becomes less capable of forming the con- 
ceptions and making the exertions which are requisite for the appre- 
hension of truths not included among its usual subjects of thought. 

I. This seems to be the case with those who maintain that pur- 
pose and design cannot be inferred or deduced from the arrange- 
ments which we see around us by any process of reasoning. We 
can reason from effects to causes, say such writers, only in cases 
where we know something of the nature of the cause. We can 
infer from the works of men, the existence of design and purpose, 
because we know, from past observation, what kind of works hu- 
man design and purpose can produce. But the universe, considered 
as the work of God, cannot be compared with any corresponding 
work, or judged of by any analogy with know examples. How 
then can we, in this case, they ask, infer design and purpose in the 
artist of the universe 1 On what principles, on what axioms, can 
we proceed, which shall include this necessarily singular instance, 
and thus give legitimacy and validity to our reasonings? 

What has already been said on the subject of the two different 
processes by which we obtain principles, and by which we reason 
from them, will suggest the reply to these questions. When we 
collect design and purpose from the arrangements of the universe, 
we do not arrive at our conclusion by a train of deductive reason- 



FINAL CAUSES. 



177 



ing, but by the conviction which such combinations as wo perce e 
immediately and directly impress upon the mind. "Design n 
have had a designer." But such a principle can be of no avail to 
one whom the contemplation or the description of the world does 
not impress with the perception of design. It is not therefore at 
the end, but at the beginning of our syllogisms, not among remote 
conclusions, but among original principles, that we must place the 
truth, that such arrangements, manifestations, and proceedings as 
we behold about us imply a Being endowed with consciousness, 
design, and will, from whom they proceed. 

This is inevitably the mode in which such a conviction is ac- 
quired; and that it is so, we may the more readily believe, when 
we consider that it is the case with the design and will which we as- 
cribe to man, no less than in that which we believe to exist in God. 
At first sight we might perhaps be tempted to say, that we infer 
design and purpose from the works of man in one case, because we 
have known these attributes in other cases produce effects in son e 
measure similar. But to this we must reply, by asking how we 
come to know the existence of human design and purpose at first, 
and at all? What we see around us are certain appearances, 
things, successions of events; how come we ever to ascribe to other 
men the thought and will of which we are conscious ourselves I 
How do we come to believe that there are other men 1 How are 
we led to elevate, in our conceptions, some of the objects which we 
perceive into persons? No doubt their actions, their words induce 
us to do this. We see that the manifestations which we observe mus1 
be so understood, and no otherwise. We feel that such actions, such 
events must be connected by consciousness and personality ; that the 
actions are not the actions- of things, but of persons ; not necessary 
and without significance, like the falling of a stone, but voluntary and 
with purpose like what we do ourselves. But this is not the result oi 
reasoning: we do not infer this from any similar case which we 
have known; since we are now speaking of the first conception ol 
a will and purpose different from our own. In arriving at such 
knowledge, we are aided only by our own consciousness of what 
thought, purpose, will, are: and possessing this regulative principle, 
we so decypher and interpret the complex appearances which sur- 
round us, that we receive irresistibly the persuasion of the existenci 
of other men, with thought and will and purpose like our own. 
And just in the same manner, when we examine attentively the ad- 
justment of the parts of the human frame to each other and to the 
elements, the relation of the properties of the earth to those ol its 
inhabitants, or of the physical to the moral nature ol man, the 
thought must arise and cling to our perceptions, however little il be 
encouraged, that this system, every where so full of wonderful com- 
binations, suited to the preservation, and well-being ol living crea- 

16 



178 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



tures, is also the expression of the intention, wisdom, and goodness 
of a personal creator and governor. 

We conceive then that it is so far from being an unsatisfactory 
or unphilosophical process by which we collect the existence of a 
Deity from the works of creation, that the process corresponds 
most closely with that on which rests the most steadfast of our con- 
victions, next to that of our own existence, the belief of the exis- 
tence of other human beings. If any one ever went so far in scep- 
ticism as to doubt the existence of any other person than himself, 
he might, so far as the argument from final causes is concerned, 
reject the being of God as well as that of man; but without dwell- 
ing on the possibility of such fantasies, when we consider how im- 
possible it is for men in general not to attribute personality, purpose, 
thought, will to each other, in virtue of certain combinations of ap- 
pearances and actions, we must deem them most consistent and 
reasonable in attributing also personality and purpose to God, in 
virtue of the whole assemblage of appearances and actions which 
constitute the universe, full as it is of combinations from which 
such a suggestion springs. The vividness, the constancy of the 
belief of a wise and good Being, thus governing the world, may 
be different in different men, according to their habit of directing 
their thoughts on the subject; but such a belief is undoubtedly ca- 
pable of becoming lively and steadfast in the highest degree. It 
has been entertained and cherished by enlightened and well-regu- 
lated minds in all ages; and has been, at least since the rise of 
Christianity, not only the belief, but a pervading and ruling princi- 
ple of action of many men, and of whole communities. The idea 
may be rendered more faint by turning the mind away from it, 
and, perhaps by indulging too exclusively in abstract and general 
speculations. It grows stronger by an actual study of the details 
of the creation ; and, as regards the practical consequences of such 
a belief, by a habit of referring our actions and hopes to such a 
Governor. In this way it is capable of becoming as real and fixed 
an impression as that of a human friend and master; and all that we 
can learn, by observing the course of men's feelings and actions, 
tends to convince us, that this belief of the being and presence and 
government of God, leads to the most elevated and beneficial frame 
of mind of which man is capable. 

2. How natural and almost inevitable is this persuasion of the 
reality of Final Causes and consequent belief in the personality of 
the Deity, we may gather by observing how constantly it recurs to 
the thoughts, even of those who, in consequence of such peculiari- 
ties of mental discipline as have been described, have repelled and 
resisted the impression. 

Thus, Laplace, of whom we have already spoken, as one of the 
greatest mathematicians of modern times, expresses his conviction 
that the supposed evidence of final causes will disappear as our 



FINAL CAUSES. 



179 



knowledge advances, and that they only seem to exist in those 
cases where our ignorance leaves room for such a mistake. " Let 
us run over," he says, "the history of the progress of the human 
mind and its errors: we shall perpetually see final causes pushed 
away to the bounds of its knowledge. These causes, which New- 
ton removed to the limits of the solar system, were not long ago 
conceived to obtain in the atmosphere, and employed in explaining 
meteors: they are, therefore, in the eyes of the philosopher ootbing 
more than the expression of the ignorance in which we are of the 
real causes." 

We may observe that we have endeavoured to give a very dif- 
ferent, and, as we believe, a far truer view of the effect which phi- 
losophy has produced on our knowledge of final causes. We have 
shown, we trust, that the notion of design and end is transferred by 
the researches of science, not from the domain of our knowledge to 
that of our ignorance, but merely from the region of facts to that of 
laws. We hold that, in this form, final causes in the atmosphere 
xire still to be conceived to obtain, no less than in an earlier state of 
meteorological knowledge ; and that Newton was right, when he 
believed that he had established their reality in the solar system, not 
expelled them from it. 

But our more peculiar business at present is to observe that La- 
place himself, in describing the arrangements by which the stability 
of the solar system is secured, uses language which shows how irre- 
sistibly these arrangements suggest an adaptation to its preservation 
as an end. If in his expressions we were to substitute the Deity for 
the abstraction " nature" which he employs, his reflexion would co- 
incide with that which the most religious philosopher would enter- 
tain. " It seems that 'God'- has ordered everything in the heavens 
to ensure the duration of the planetary system, by views similar to 
those which He appears to us so admirably to follow upon the earth, 
for the preservation of animals and the perpetuity of species/ This 
consideration alone would explain the disposition of the system, it it 
were not the business of the geometer to go further." It may be 
possible for the geometer to go further; but he must be strangely 
blinded by his peculiar pursuits, if, when he has discovered the mode 
in which these views are answered, he supposes himself to have ob- 
tained a proof that there are no views at all. It would be as it the 
savage, who had marvelled at the steady working of the steam en- 
gine, should cease to consider it a work of art, as soon as the self- 
regulating part of the mechanism had been explained to him. 

the unsuccessful struggle in which those persons engage. who 
attempt to throw off the impression of design in the creation, appears 

* II semble que la nature ait tout dispose dans le cicl, pour assurer la dttrte dll 
systeme planetaire, par des vues semblables a celles qu'elle nous parail :8Ui< VTC « 
admirablement sur la terre, pour la conservation des individus ct la perpetuus m s 
especes.— aS^. du Monde, p. 442. 



180 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



in an amusing manner through the simplicity of the ancient Roman 
poet of this school. Lucretius maintains that the eye was not made 
for seeing, ncr the ear for hearing. But the terms in which he re- 
commends this doctrine show how hard he knew it to be for men to 
entertain such an opinion. His advice is, — 

lllud, in his rebus vitium vehementer et istum 
Effugere errorem, vitareque preemeditator, 
Lumina ne facias oculorum clara creata, 
Prospicei'e ut possimus. iv. 823. 

'Gainst their preposterous error guard thy mind 
Who say each organ was for use design'd ; 
Think not the visual orbs, so clear, so bright, 
Were furnish'd for the purposes of sight. 

Undoubtedly the poet is so far right, that a most " vehement" cau- 
tion and vigilant " premeditation" are necessary to avoid the " vice 
and error" of such a persuasion. The study of the adaptations of 
the human frame is so convincing, that it carries the mind with it, 
in spite of the resistance suggested by speculative systems. Cabanis, 
a modern French physiological writer of great eminence, may be 
selected as a proof of this. Both by the general character of his 
own speculations, and by the tone of thinking prevalent around him,* 
the consideration of design in the works of nature was abhorrent 
from his plan. Accordingly, he joins in repeating Bacon's unfa- 
vourable mention of final causes. Yet when he comes to speak of 
the laws of reproduction of the human race, he appears to feel him- 
self compelled to admit the irresistible manner in which such views 
force themselves on the mind. " I regard," he says, " with the great 
Bacon, the philosophy of final causes as barren ; but I have else- 
where acknowledged that it was very difficult for the most cautious 
man (l'homme le plus reserve) never to have recourse to them in 
his explanations."* 

3. It may be worth our while to consider for a moment the opi- 
nion here referred to by Cabanis, of the propriety of excluding the 
consideration of final causes from our natural philosophy. The 
great authority of Bacon is usually adduced on this subject. " The 
handling of final causes," says he, "mixed with the rest in physical 
inquiries, hath intercepted the severe and diligent inquiry of all real 
and physical causes, and given men the occasion to stay upon these 
satisfactory and specious causes, to the great arrest and prejudice of 
farther discovery."! 

A moment's attention will show how well this representation 
agrees with that which we have urged, and how far it is from dis- 
suading the reference to final causes in reasonings like those on 
which we are employed. Final causes are to be excluded from 
physical inquiry ; that is, we are not to assume that we know the 

* Rapports du Physique et du Moral de l'Homme. i. 299. 
f De Augment. Sc. ii. 105. 



FINAL CAUSES. 



181 



objects of the Creator's design, and put this assumed purpose in the 
place of a physical cause. We are not to think it a sufficient ac- 
count of the clouds that they are for watering the earth, (to tak<j 
Bacon's examples,) or "that the solidness of the earth is for the sta- 
tion and mansion of living creatures." The physical philosopher 
has it for his business to trace clouds to the laws of evaporation and 
condensation ; to determine the magnitude and mode of action of 
the forces of cohesion and crystallization by which the materials of 
the earth are made solid and firm. This he does, making no use of 
the notion of final causes : and it is precisely because he has thus 
established his theories independently of any assumption of an end, 
that the end, when, after all, it returns upon him and cannot l=c 
evaded, becomes an irresistible evidence of an intelligent legislator. 
He finds that the effects, of w r hich the use is obvious, are produced 
by most simple and comprehensive laws; and when he has obtained 
this view, he is struck by the beauty of the means, by the refined and 
skilful manner in which the useful effects are brought about : — points 
different from those to which his researches were directed. We 
have already seen, in the very case of w 7 hich we have been speak- 
ing, namely, the laws by which the clouds are formed and distribute 
their showers over the earth, how 7 strongly those who have most 
closely and extensively examined the arrangements there employed 
(as Howard, Dalton, and Black) have been impressed with the har- 
mony and beauty w r hich these contrivances manifest. 

We may find a further assertion of this view of the proper use of 
final causes in philosophy, by referring to the works of one of the 
greatest of our philosophers, and one of the most pious of our writers. 
Boyle, who has an Essay on this subject. "1 am by all means," 
says he, ''for encouraging the contemplation of the celestial part oi 
the world, and the shining globes that adorn it, and especially the 
sun and moon, in order to raise our admiration of the stupendous 
power and wisdom, of him who was able to frame such immense 
bodies; and notwithstanding their vast bulk and scarce conceivable 
rapidity, keep them for so many ages constant both to the lines and 
degrees of their motion, without interfering with one another. And 
doubtless we ought to return thanks and praises to the divine good- 
ness for having so placed the sun and moon, and determined the tu - 
rner, or else the earth, to move in particular lines for the good ol 
men and other animals; and how disadvantageous it would have 
been to the inhabitants of the earth if the luminaries had moved after 
a different manner. I dare not, however, affirm that the sun, m<>,.n, 
and other celestial bodies were made solely for the use of man: 
much less presume to prove one system of the world to be true and an- 
other false ; because the former is better fitted to the annrtucna <>t 
mankind, or the other less suited, or perhaps altogether useless to that 
end." 

This passage exhibits, we conceive, that combination of feelings 

16 * 



182 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



which ought to mark the character of the religious natural philoso- 
pher ; an earnest piety ready to draw nutriment from the contem- 
plation of established physical truths ; joined with a philosophical 
caution, is not seduced by the anticipation of such contemplations, 
to pervert the strict course of physical inquiry. 

It is precisely through this philosophical care and scrupulousness 
that our views of final causes acquire their force and value as aids 
to religion. The object of such views is not to lead us to physical 
truth, but to connect such truth, obtained by its proper processes 
and methods, with our views of God, the master of the universe, 
through those laws and relations which are thus placed beyond dis- 
pute. 

Bacon's comparison of final causes to the vestal virgins is one of 
those poignant sayings, so frequent in his writings, which it is not 
easy to forget. " Like them," he says, " they are dedicated to God, 
and are barren." But to any one who reads his work it will ap- 
pear in what spirit this was meant. " Not because those final 
causes are not true and worthy to be inquired, being kept within 
their own province." (Of the Advancement of Learning, b. ii. p. 
142.) If he had had occasion to develope his simile, full of latent 
meaning as his similes so often are, he would probably have said, 
that to these final causes barrenness was no reproach, seeing they 
ought to be, not the mothers but the daughters of our natural 
sciences ; and that they were barren, not by imperfection of their 
nature, but in order that they might be kept pure and undefiled, and 
so fit ministers in the temple of God. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

ON THE PHYSICAL AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 

1. We are not to expect that physical investigation can enable 
us to conceive the manner in which God acts upon the members of 
the universe. The question, " Canst thou by searching find out 
God ?" must silence the boastings of science as well as the repinings 
of adversity. Indeed, science shows us, far more clearly than the 
conceptions of every day reason, at what an immeasurable dis- 
tance we are from any faculty of conceiving how the universe, ma- 
terial and moral, is the work of the Deity. But with regard to the 
material world, we can at least go so far as this ; — we can perceive 
that events are brought about, not by insulated interpositions of 
divine power exerted in each particular case, but by the establish- 
ment of general laws. This, which is the view of the universe 



AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 



183 



proper to science, whose office it is to search out these laws, is also 
the view of which, throughout this work, we have endeavoured to 
keep present to the mind of the reader. We have attempted to 
show that it combines itself most readily and harmoniously with 
the doctrines of Natural Theology; that the arguments for tl 
doctrines are strengthened, the difficulties which affect them re- 
moved, by keeping it steadily before us. We conceive, therefore, 
that the religious philosopher will do well to bear this conception in 
his mind. God is the author and governor of the universe through 
the laws which he has given to its parts, the properties which 
he has impressed upon its constituent elements: these laws and 
properties are, as we have already said, the instruments with which 
he works: the institution of such laws, the selection of the quan- 
tities which they involve, their combination and application, are the 
modes in which he exerts and manifests his power, his wisdom, 
his goodness: through these attributes, thus exercised, the Creator 
of all, shapes, moves, sustains, and guides the visible creation. 

This has been the view of the relation of the Deity to the uni- 
verse entertained by the most sagacious and comprehensive mind- 
ever since the true object of natural philosophy has been clearly 
and steadily apprehended. The great writer who was the first to 
give philosophers a distinct and commanding view of this object, 
thus expresses himself in his " Confession of Faith :" " I believe — 
that notwithstanding God hath rested and ceased from creating 
since the first Sabbath, yet, nevertheless, he doth accomplish and 
fulfil his divine will in all things, great and small, singular and ge- 
neral, as fully and exactly by providence, as he could by miracle and 
new creation, though his working be not immediate and direct, but 
by compass; not violating -Nature, which is his own law upon the 
creature." 

And one of our own time, whom we can no longer hesitate to 
place among the worthiest disciples of the school of Bacon, con- 
veys the same thought in the following passages: "The Divine 
Author of the universe cannot be supposed to have laid down parti- 
cular laws, enumerating all individual contingencies, w hich his ma- 
terials have understood and obey — this would be to attribute to him 
the imperfections of human legislation; — but rather, by creating 
them endowed with certain fixed qualities and powers, he has im- 
pressed them in their origin with the spirit, not the letter of his law, 
and made all their subsequent combinations and relations inevitable 
consequences of this first impression. 7 '* 

2. This, which thus appears to be the mode of the Deity's 0] « - 
ration in the material world, requires some attention on our part in 
order to understand it with proper clearness. One reason oi this 
is, that it is the mode of operation altogether different from thai in 

* Herschel on the Study of Nat. Phil. Art. 27. 



184 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



which we are able to make matter fulfil our designs. Man can 
construct exquisite machines, can call in vast powers, can form ex- 
tensive combinations, in order to bring about the results which he 
has in view. But in all this he is only taking advantage of laws of 
nature which already exist ; he is applying to his use qualities which 
matter already possesses. Nor can he by any effort do more. He 
can establish no new law of nature which is not a result of the ex- 
isting ones. He can invest matter with no new properties which 
are not modifications of its present attributes. His greatest ad- 
vances in skill and power are made when he calls to his aid forces 
which before existed unemployed, or when he discovers so much of 
the habits of some of the elements as to be able to bend them to his 
purpose. He navigates the ocean by the assistance of the winds 
which he cannot raise or still : and even if we suppose him able 
to control the course of these, his yet unsubjugated ministers, this 
could only be done by studying their characters, by learning more 
thoroughly the laws of air and heat and moisture. He cannot give 
the minutest portion of the atmosphere new relations, a new course 
of expansion, new laws of motion. But the Divine operations, on 
the other hand, include something much higher. They take in the 
establishment of the laws of the elements, as well as the combina- 
tion of these laws and the determination of the distribution and 
quantity of the materials on which they shall produce their effect. 
We must conceive that the Supreme Power has ordained that air 
shall be rarefied, and water turned into vapour, by heat ; no less 
than that he has combined air and water so as to sprinkle the earth 
with showers, and determined the quantity of heat and air and 
water, so that the showers shall be as beneficial as they are. 

We may and must, therefore, in our conceptions of the Divine 
purpose and agency, go beyond the analogy of human contrivances. 
We must conceive the Deity, not only as constructing the most re- 
fined and vast machinery, with which, as we have already seen, the 
universe is filled ; but we must also imagine him as establishing 
those properties by which such machinery is possible : as giving to 
the materials of his structure the qualities by which the material is 
fitted to its use. There is much to be found, in natural objects, of 
the same kind of contrivance which is common to these and to hu- 
man inventions ; there are mechanical devices, operations of the 
atmospheric elements, chemical processes; — many such have been 
pointed out, many more exist. But besides these cases of the com- 
bination of means, which we seem able to understand without much 
difficulty, we are led to consider the Divine Being as the author of 
the laws of chemical, of physical, and of mechanical action, and of 
such other laws as make matter what it is ; — and this is a view 
which no analogy of human inventions, no knowledge of human 
powers, at all assists us to embody or understand. Science, there- 
fore, as we have said, while it discloses to us the mode of instru- 



AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 



185 



mentality employed by the Deity, convinces us, more effectually 
than ever, of the impossibility of conceiving God's actions b\ as- 
similating them to our own. 

3. The laws of material nature, such as we have described them, 
operate at all times, and in all places; affect every province of the 
universe, and involve every relation of its parts. Wherever these 
laws appear, we have a manifestation of the intelligence by which 
they were established. But a law supposes an agent, and a" power ; 
for it is the mode according to which the agent proceeds, the order 
according to which the power acts. Without the presence of such 
an agent, of such a power, conscious of the relations on which the 
law depends, producing the effects which the law prescribes, i he 
law can have no efficacy, no existence. Hence we infer that the 
intelligence by which the law is ordained, the power by which it is 
put in action, must be present at all times and in all places where the 
effects of the law occur; that thus the knowledge and the agencj 
of the Divine Being pervade every portion of the universe, produc- 
ing all action and passion, all permanence and change. The laws of 
nature are the laws which he, in his wisdom, prescribes to his own 
acts ; his universal presence is the necessary condition of any course 
of events, his universal agency the only origin of any efficient force. 

This view of the relation of the universe to God has been enter- 
tained by many of the most eminent of those who have combined 
the consideration of the material world with the contemplation of 
God himself. It may therefore be of use to illustrate it by a few 
quotations, and the more so, as we find this idea remarkably dwelt 
upon in the works of that writer whose religious views must always 
have a peculiar interest for the cultivators of physical science, the 
great Newton. 

Thus, in the observations on the nature of the Deity with which 
he closes the " Optics," he declares the various portions of the world, 
organic and inorganic, "can be the effect of nothing else than the 
wisdom and skill of a powerful everliving Agent, who being in all 
places, is more able by his will to move the bodies within his bound- 
less uniform sensorium, and thereby to form and reform the pari- oi 
the universe, than we are by our will to move the parts of our own 
bodies." And in the Scholium at the end of the " Principia," he says. 
" God is one and the same God always and everywhere. He is omni- 
present, not by means of his virtue alone, but also by his substance, fi u 
virtue cannot subsist without substance. In him all things are contain- 
ed, and move, but without mutual passion: God is not acted upon by 
the motions of bodies; and they suffer no resistance from the omni- 
presence of God." And he refers to several passages confirmatory oi 
this view, not only in the Scriptures, but also in writers who hand do* D 
to us the opinions of some of the most philosophical thinkers oi the 
pagan world. He does not disdain to quote the poets, and among the 
rest, the verses of Virgil ; 



186 RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 

Principio coelum ac terras camposque liquentes 
Lucentemque globum lunse, Titaniaque astra, 
Spiritus intus alit, totamque infusa per artus 
Mens agitat raolem et mag-no se corpore miscet ; 

warning his reader however against the doctrine which such ex- 
pressions as these are sometimes understood to express. " All these 
things he rules, not as the soul of the world, but as the Lord of all." 

Clarke, the friend and disciple of Newton, is one of those who has 
most strenuously put forwards the opinion of which we are speak- 
ing, " All things which we commonly say are the effects of the na- 
tural powers of matter and laws of motion, are indeed (if we will 
speak strictly and properly,) the effects of God's acting upon mat- 
ter continually and at every moment, either immediately by himself, 
or mediately by some created intelligent being. Consequently there 
is no such thing as the course of nature, or the power of nature," 
independent of the effects produced by the will of God. 

Dugald Stewart has adopted and illustrated the same opinion, and 
quotes with admiration the well-known passage of Pope, concerning 
the Divine Agency, which 

"Lives through all life, extends through all extent, 
Spreads undivided, operates unspent." 

Mr. Stewart, with no less reasonableness than charity, asserts the 
propriety of interpreting such passages according to the scope and 
spirit of the reasonings with which they are connected ;* since, 
though by a captious reader they might be associated with errone- 
ous views of the Deity, a more favourable construction will often 
see in them only the results of the necessary imperfection of our 
language, when we dwell upon the omnipresence and universal ac- 
tivity of God. 

Finally, we may add that the same opinions still obtain the assent 
of the best philosophers and divines of our time. Sir John Herschel 
says, (Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy, p. 37.) " We 
would no way be understood to deny the constant exercise of His 
direct power in maintaining the system of nature ; or the ultimate 
emanation, of every energy which material agents exert, from his 
immediate will, acting in conformity with his own laws." And the 
Bishop of London, in a note to his " Sermon on the duty of combin- 
ing religious instruction with intellectual culture," observes, " the 
student in natural philosophy will find rest from all those perplexi- 
ties which are occasioned by the obscurity of causation, in the sup- 
position, which although it was discredited by the patronage of 
Malebranche and the Cartesians, has been adopted by Clarke and 
Dugald Stewart, and which is by far the most simple and sublime 



* Elem. of Phil. ii. p. 273. 



INCOMPREHENSIBLE NATURE OF GOD. ) M 

account of the matter; that all the evcnts ( \vhich are continually 
taking place : .n the different parts of the material univorsc are TZ 
immediate effects of the Divine Agency " ^ 10 °" 



CHAPTER IX. 

ON THE IMPRESSION PRODUCED EY CONSIDERING THE NATURE AM, PROS- 
PECTS OF SCIENCE J OR, ON THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF THE PROGRESS OF 
OUR KNOWLEDGE EVER ENABLING US TO COMPREHEND THE If ATI B E 
OF THE DEITY. 



If we were to stop at the view presented in the last chapter, it might 
be supposed that— by considering God as eternal and omnipresent, 
conscious of all the relations, and of all the objects of the universe, 
instituting laws founded on the contemplation of these relating, and 
carrying these laws into effect by his immediate energy,— we had 
tatained to a conception, in some degree definite, of the Deity, such 
as natural philosophy leads us to conceive him. But by resting in 
this mode of conception, we should overlook, or at least should "dis- 
connect from our philosophical doctrines, all that most interests and 
affects us in the character of the Creator and Preserver of the 
world; — namely, that he is the lawgiver and judge of our actions ; 
the proper object of our prayer and adoration; the source from 
which we may hope for moral strength here, and for the reward of 
our obedience and the elevation of our nature in another state of ex- 
istence. 

We are very far from believing that our philosophy alone can 
give us such assurance of these important truths as is requisite for 
our guidance and support; but we think that even our physical 
philosophy will point out to us the necessity of proceeding far be- 
yond that conception of God, which represents him merely as the 
mind in which reside all the contrivance, law, and energy of the 
material world. We believe that the view of the universe which 
modern science has already opened to us, compared with die pros- 
pect of what she has still to do in pursuing the path on which she 
has just entered, will show us how immeasurably inadequate such 
a mode of conception would be: and that if we take into <>nr 
account, as we must in reason do, all that of which we have 
knowledge and consciousness, and of which we have as yel no sj 
tematic science, we shall be led to a conviction thai the Creator 
and Preserver of the material world must also contain in him such 
properties and attributes as imply his moral character, and as fall in 



188 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



most consistently with all that we learn in any other way of his 
providence and holiness, his justice and mercy. 

1. The sciences which have at present acquired any considerable 
degree of completeness, are those in which an extensive and 
varied collection of phenomena, and their proximate causes, have 
been reduced to a few simple general laws. Such are Astronomy 
and Mechanics, and perhaps, so far as its physical conditions are 
concerned, Optics. Other portions of human knowledge can be 
considered as perfect sciences, in any strict sense of the term, only 
when they have assumed this form ; when the various appearances 
which they involve are reduced to a few principles, such as the laws 
of motion and the mechanical properties of the luminiferous ether. 
If we could trace the endless varieties of the form of crystals, and 
the complicated results of chemical composition, to some one com- 
prehensive law necessarily pointing out the crystalline form of any 
given chemical compound, Mineralogy would become an exact 
science. As yet, however, we can scarcely boast of the existence 
of any other such sciences than those which we at first mentioned : 
and so far therefore as we attempt to give definiteness to our con- 
ception of the Deity, by considering him as the intelligent depositary 
and executor of laws of nature, we can subordinate to such a 
mode of conception no portion of the creation, save the mechanical 
movements of the universe, and the propagation and properties of 
light. 

2. And if we attempt to argue concerning the nature of the 
laws and relations which govern those provinces of creation 
whither our science has not yet reached, by applying some analogy 
borrowed from cases where it has been successful, we have no 
chance of attaining any except the most erroneous and worthless 
guesses. The history of human speculations, as well as the nature 
of the objects of them, show T s how certainly this must happen. The 
great generalizations which have been established in one department 
of our knowledge, have been applied in vain to the purpose of 
throwing light on the other portions which still continue in obscu- 
rity. When the Newtonian philosophy had explained so many me- 
chanical facts, by the two great steps, — of resolving the action of 
a whole mass into the actions of its minutest particles, and con- 
sidering ihese particles as centres of force, — attempts were natu- 
rally soon made to apply the same mode of explanation to facts of 
other different kinds. It was conceived that the whole of natural 
philosophy must consist in investigating the laws of force by 
which particles of different substances attracted and repelled, and 
thus produced motions, or vibrations to and from the particles. Yet 
what were the next great discoveries in physics ? The action of a 
galvanic wire upon a magnet ; which is not to attract or repel it, 
but to turn it to the right and left ; to produce motion, not to or 
from but transverse to the line drawn to the acting particles ; and 



INCOMPREHENSIBLE NATURE OF GOD. 



189 



again, the undulatory theory of light, in which it appeared that the 
undulations must not be longitudinal, as all philosophers, following 
the analogy of all cases previously conceived, had, at first, supposed 
them to be, but transverse to the path of the ray. Here, though the 
step from the known to the unknown was comparatively small, 
when made conjecturally it was made in a direction very wide 
of the truth. How impossible then must it be to attain in this 
manner to any conception of a law which shall help us to under- 
stand the whole government of the universe ! 

3. Still, however, in the laws of the luminiferous ether, and of the 
other fluid, (if it be another fluid) by which galvanism and mag- 
netism are connected, we have something approaching nearly to 
mechanical action, and, possibly, hereafter to be identified with it. 
But we cannot turn to any other part of our physical knowledge, 
without perceiving that the gulf which separates it from the exact 
sciences is yet wider and more obscure. Who shall enunciate for 
us, and in terms of what notions, the general law of chemical com- 
position and decomposition 1 sometimes indeed we give the name 
of attraction to the affinity by which we suppose the particles of 
the various ingredients of bodies to be aggregated ; but no one can 
point out any common feature between this and the attractions of 
which alone we know the exact effects. He who shall discover the 
true general law of the forces by which elements form compounds, 
will probably advance as far beyond the discoveries of Newton, 
as Newton went beyond Aristotle. But who shall say in what di- 
rection this vast flight shall be, and what new views it shall open 
to us of the manner in which matter obeys the laws of the 
Creator 1 

4. But suppose this flight performed ; — we are yet but at the 
outset of the progress which must carry us towards Him. We 
have yet to begin to learn all that we are to know concerning 
the ultimate laws of organized bodies. What is the principle ot 
life ? What is the rule of that action of which assimilation, secre- 
tion, developement, are manifestations ? and which appears to be 
farther removed from mere chemistry than chemistry is from 
mechanics. And what again is the new principle, as it seems to 
be, which is exhibited in irritability of an animal nerve ? the ex- 
istence of a sense'? How different is this from all the preceding 
notions ! No efforts can avoid or conceal the vast but inscrutable 
chasm. Those theorists, who have maintained most strenuously the 
possibility of tracing the phenomena of animal life to the influence 
of physical agents, have constantly been obliged to suppose a 
mode of agency altogether different from any yet known in physics. 
Thus Lamarck, one of the most noted of such speculators, in de- 
scribing the course of his researches, says, "I was soon persuaded 
that the internal sentiment constituted a power which it was neces- 
sarv to take into account." And Bichat, another writer on the same 

1 17 



190 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



subject, while he declares his dissent from Stahl, and the earlier 
speculators, who had referred everything in the economy of life to 
a single principle, which they called the anima the vital principle, 
and so forth, himself introduces several principles, or laws, all 
utterly foreign to the region of physics ; namely, organic sensibility, 
organic contractility, animal sensibility, animal contractility, and the 
like. Supposing such principles really to exist, how far enlarged 
and changed must our views be before we can conceive these 
properties, including the faculty of perception, which they imply, 
to be produced by the will and power of one supreme Being, act- 
ing by fixed laws. Yet without conceiving this, we cannot con- 
ceive the agency of that Deity who is incessantly thus acting m 
countless millions of forms and modes. 

How strongly then does science represent God to us as incom- 
prehensible ; his attributes as unfathomable ! His power, his wis- 
dom, his goodness, appear in each of the provinces of nature w 7 hich 
are thus brought before us; and in each, the more we study them, 
the more impressive, the more admirable do they appear. When 
then we find these qualities manifested in each of so many successive 
ways, and each manifestation rising above the preceding by un- 
known degrees, and through a progression of unknown extent, 
what other language can we use concerning such attributes than 
that they are infinite ? What mode of expression can the most 
cautious philosophy suggest, other than that He, to whom we thus 
endeavour to approach, is infinitely wise, powerful, and good? 

5. But with sense and consciousness the history of living things 
only begins. They have instincts, affections, passions, will. How 
entirely lost and bewildered do we find ourselves when we endea- 
vour to conceive these faculties communicated by means of general 
laws ! Yet they are so communicated from God, and of such laws 
he is the lawgiver. At what an immeasurable interval is he thus 
placed above everything which the creation of the inanimate world 
alone would imply ; and how far must he transcend all ideas found- 
ed on such laws as we find there ! 

6. But we have still to go further and far higher. The w 7 orld of 
reason and of morality is a part of the same creation, as the world 
of matter and of sense. The will of man is swayed by rational mo- 
tives ; its workings are inevitably compared with a rule of action ; 
he has a conscience which speaks of right and wrong. These are 
laws of man's nature no less than the laws of his material existence, 
or his animal impulses. Yet what entirely new conceptions do they 
involve 1 How incapable of being resolved into, or assimilated to, 
the results of mere matter, or mere sense ! Moral good and evil, 
merit and demerit, virtue and depravity, if ever they are the sub- 
jects of strict science, must belong to a science which views these 
things, not with reference to time or space, or mechanical causation, 
not with reference to fluid or ether, nervous irritability or corporeal 



INCOMPREHENSIBLE NATURE OF GOD. 



10] 



feeling, but to their own proper modes of conception; with reference 
to the relations with which it is possible that these notions may be 
connected, and not to relations suggested by other subjects of a com- 
pletely extraneous and heterogeneous nature. And according to 
such relations must the laws of the moral world be apprehend* , I. by 
any'intelligence which contemplates them at all. 

There can be no wider interval in philosophy than the separation 
which must exist between the laws of mechanical force and motion, 
and the laws of free moral action. Yet the tendency of men to as- 
sume, in the portions of human knowledge which are out of their 
reach, a similarity of type to those with which they are familiar, 
can leap over even this interval. Laplace has asserted that " an in- 
telligence which, at a given instant, should know all the forces by 
which nature is urged, and the respective situation of the beings of 
which nature is composed, if, moreover, it were sufficiently compre- 
hensive to subject these data to calculation, would include in the 
same formula, the movements of the largest bodies of the universe 
and those of the slightest atom. Nothing would be uncertain to such 
an intelligence, and the future, no less than the past, would be pro- 
sent to its eyes." If we speak merely of mechanical action-, this 
may, perhaps, be assumed to be an admissible representation of the 
nature of their connexion in the sight of the supreme intelligence. 
But to the rest of what passes in the world, such language is alto- 
gether inapplicable. A formula is a brief mode of denoting a rule 
of calculating in which numbers are to be used: and numerical 
measures are applicable only to things of which the relations depend 
on time and space. By such elements, in such a mode, how are we 
to estimate happiness and virtue, thought and will 1 To speak of a 
formula with regard to such things, would be to assume thai their 
laws must needs take the shape of those laws of the material world 
which our intellect most fully comprehends. A more absurd and 
unphilosophical assumption we can hardly imagine. 

We conceive, therefore, that the laws by which God governs his 
moral creatures, reside in his mind, invested with that kind of gene- 
rality, whatever it be, of which such laws are capable; but of the 
character of such general laws, we know nothing more certainly 
than this, that it must be altogether different from the character 01 
those laws which regulate the material world. The inevitable ne- 
cessity of such a total difference is suggested by the analogy af all 
the knowledge which we possess and all the conceptions which we 
can form. And, accordingly, no persons, except those whose minda 
have been biassed by some peculiar habit or course of thought, are 
likely to run into the confusion and perplexity which are produced 
by assimilating too closely the government and direction oi volun- 
tary agents to the production of trains of mechanical and physical 
phenomena. In whatever manner voluntary and moral agency de- 
pend upon the Supreme Being, it must be in sonic such way that 



192 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



they still continue to bear the character of will, action, and morality. 
And, though too exclusive an attention to material phenomena may 
sometimes have made physical philosophers blind to this manifest 
difference, it has been clearly seen and plainly asserted by those who 
have taken the most comprehensive views of the nature and ten- 
dency of science. " I believe," says Bacon, in his Confession of 
Faith, " that, at the first the soul of man was not produced by hea- 
ven or earth, but was breathed immediately from God ; so that the 
ways and 'proceedings of God with spirits are not included in nature ; 
that is in the laws of heaven and earth ; but are reserved to the law 
of his secret will and grace ; wherein God worketh still, and resteth 
not from the work of redemption, as he resteth from the work of 
creation ; but continueth working to the end of the world." We 
may be permitted to observe here, that, when Bacon has thus to 
speak of God's dealings with his moral creatures, he does not take 
his phraseology from those sciences which can offer none but false 
and delusive analogies; but helps out the inevitable scantiness of our 
human knowledge, by words borrowed from a source more fitted to 
supply our imperfections. Our natural speculations cannot carry us 
to the ideas of ' grace' and * redemption ;' but in the wide blank 
which they leave of all that concerns our hopes of the Divine sup- 
port and favour, the inestimable Knowledge which revelation, as we 
conceive, gives us, finds ample room and appropriate place. 

7. Yet even in the view of our moral constitution which natural 
reason gives, w r e may trace laws that imply a personal relation to 
our Creator. How can we avoid considering that as a true view 
of man's being and place, without which, his best faculties are never 
fully developed, his noblest energies never called out, his highest 
point of perfection never reached ? Without the thought of a God 
over all, superintending our actions, approving our virtues, trans- 
cending our highest conceptions of good, man would never rise to 
those higher regions of moral excellence which we know him to be 
capable of attaining. " To deny a God," again says the great phi- 
losopher, "destroys magnanimity and the raising of human nature; 
for take an example of a dog, and mark what a generosity and cou- 
rage he will put on, when he finds himself maintained by a man ; 
who, to him, is instead of a God, or melior natura : which courage 
is manifestly such, as that creature, without that confidence of a bet- 
ter nature than his own, could never attain. So man, when he rest- 
eth and assureth himself upon divine protection and favour, gather- 
eth a force and faith, which human nature could not obtain. There- 
fore, as atheism is in all respects hateful, so in this, that it depriveth 
human nature of the means to exalt itself above human frailty."* 

Such a law, then, of reference to a Supremely Good Being, is im- 
pressed upon our nature, as the condition and means of its highest 



Bacon. Essay on Atheism. 



INCOMPREHENSIBLE NATURE OF GOD. 193 

moral advancement. And strange indeed it would be if we should 
suppose, that in a system where all besides indicates purpose and de- 
sign, this law should proceed from no such origin; and no less in- 
conceivable that such a law, purposely impressed upon man to 
purity and elevate his nature, should delude and deceive him 

8. Nothing remains, therefore, but that the Creator, who, for pur- 
poses that even we can see to be wise and good, has impressed upon 
man this tendency to look to him for support, for advancement for 
such happiness as is reconcileable with holiness;— to believe him to 
be the union of all perfection, the highest point of all intellectual and 
moral excellence ;— -is in reality such a guardian and judge, such a 
good, and wise, and perfect Being, as we thus irresistibly conceive 
him. It would indeed be extravagant to assert that the imagination 
of the creature, itself the work of God, can invent a higher point of 
goodness, of justice, of holiness, than the Creator himself possesses : 
that the Eternal Mind, from whom our notions of good and right 
are derived, is not himself directed by the rules which these notions 
imply. 

It is difficult to dwell steadily on such thoughts. But they w ill 
at least serve to confirm the view which it was our object to illus- 
trate ; namely, how incomparably the nature of God must be ele- 
vated above any conceptions which our natural reason enables us 
to form ; and we have been led to these reflections, it will be recol- 
lected, by following the clue of which science gave us the beginning. 
The Divine Mind must be conceived by us as the seat of those laws 
of nature which we have discovered. It must be no less the seat 
of those laws which we have not yet discovered, though these may 
and must be of a character far different from anything we can 
guess. The Supreme Intelligence must therefore contain the laws, 
each according to their true dependence, of organic life, of sense, 
of animal impulse, and must contain also the purpose and intent for 
which these powers were put into play. But the Governing Mind 
must comprehend also the laws of the responsible creatures which 
the world contains, and must entertain the purposes for which their 
responsible agency was given them. It must include these laws and 
purposes, connected by means of the notions, which responsibility 
implies, of desert and reward, of moral excellence in various de- 
grees, and of well-being as associated with right doing. All the 
laws which govern the moral world are expressions of the thought 
and intentions of our Supreme Ruler. All the contrivances for 
moral no less than for physical good, for the peace of mind, and 
other rewards of virtue, for the elevation and purification of indi- 
vidual character, for the civilization and refinement of states, their 
advancement in intellect and virtue, for the diffusion of good, and 
the repression of evil; all the blessings that wait on perseverance 
and energy in a good cause; on unquenchable love of mankind, 
and unconquerable devotedness to truth; on purity and self-denial; 



194 



RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 



on faith, hope, and charity ; — all these things are indications of the 
character, will, and future intentions of that God, of whom we have 
endeavoured to track the footsteps upon earth, and to show his 
handiwork in the heavens. " This God is our God, for ever and 
ever/ And if, in endeavouring to trace the tendencies of the vast 
labyrinth of laws by w T hich the universe is governed, we are some- 
times lost and bewildered, and can scarce, or not at all, discern the 
line by which pain, and sorrow, and vice fall in with a scheme di- 
rected to the strictest right and greatest good, we yet find no room 
to faint or falter : knowing that these are the darkest and most tan- 
gled recesses of our knowledge ; that into them science has as yet 
cast no ray of light; that in them reason has as yet caught sight 
of no general law by which we may securely hold : while, in those 
regions where w 7 e can see clearly, where science has thrown her 
strongest illumination upon the scheme of creation ; where we have 
had displayed to us the general laws which give rise to ail the mul- 
tifarious variety of particular facts ; — we find all full of wisdom, 
and harmony, and beauty : and all this wise selection of means, this 
harmonious combination of laws, this beautiful symmetry of ref- 
lations, directed, with no exception which human investigation has 
yet discovered, to the preservation, the diffusion, the well-being of 
those living things, which, though of their nature we know so little, 
we cannot doubt to be the worthiest objects of the Creator's care. 



THE END. 



1 



THE BRIDGEWATER TREATISES 



ON THE 

POWER, WISDOM, AND GOODNESS OF GOD, AS MANIFESTED 
IN THE CREATION. 

TREATISE IV. 

THE HAND, ITS MECHANISM AND VITAL ENDOWMENTS, AS EVINCING DESIGN 

BY SIR CHARLES BELL, K. G. H. F. R. S. L. & E. 



THE HAND, 



ITS MECHANISM AND VITAL ENDOWMENTS. 



AS EVINCING DESIGN. 



BY 

SIR CHARLES BELL, K.G.H.F.R.S.L.&E. 



A NEW EDITION 



i 



PHILADELPHIA : 
CAREY, LEA & BLANCH A RD. 
1836. ' 




The series of Treatises, of which the present is one, is published under the 
following circumstances : 

The Right Honourable and Reverend Francis Henry, Earl of Bridge- 
water, died in the month of February, 1829 ; and by his last Will and Testa- 
ment, bearing date the 25th of February, 1825, he directed certain Trustees 
therein named to invest in the public funds the sum of Eight thousand pounds 
sterling; this sum, with the accruing dividends thereon, to be held at the dis- 
posal of the President, for the time being, of the Royal Society of London, to 
be paid to the person or persons nominated by him. The Testator further di- 
rected, that the person or persons selected by the said President should be ap- 
pointed to write, print, and publish one thousand copies of a work On tin Pm - 
er, Wisdom, and Goodness of God, as manifested in the Creation ; illustrating such 
work by all reasonable arguments, as for instance the variety and formation of God's 
creatures in the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms,- the effect of digestion, 
and thereby of conversion the construction of the hand of man, and an infinite va- 
riety of other arguments; as also by discoveries ancient and modern, in arts, sciena », 
and the whole extent of literature. He desired, moreover, that the profits arising 
from the sale of the works so published should be paid to the authors ol 
works. 

The late President of the Royal Society, Davies Gilbert, Esq. requested tl 
assistance of his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury and of the Bishop of 
London, in determining upon the best mode of carrying into effect the inten- 
tions of the Testator. Acting with their advice, and with the concurrence of a 
nobleman immediately connected with the deceased, Mr. Davies Gilbert ap- 
pointed the following eight gentlemen to write separate Treatises on the diffi r- 
ent branches of the subject, as here stated : 

THE REV. THOMAS CHALMERS, D. D. 

PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH. 

ON THE ADAPTATION OF EXTERNAL NATURE TO THE MORAL AND INTELLECTUAL 
CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



JOHN KIDD, M. D. F. R. S. 

REGIUS PROFESSOR OF MEDICINE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 
ON THE ADAPTATION OF EXTERNAL NATURE TO THE PHYSICAL CONDITION I 



viii 



NOTICE. 



THE REV. WILLIAM WHE WELL, M. A. F. R. S. 

FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 
ON ASTRONOMY AND GENERAL PHYSICS. 

SIR CHARLES BELL, K. H. F. R. S. 

THE HAND : ITS MECHANISM AND VITAL ENDOWMENTS AS EVINCING DESIGN. 

PETER MARK ROGET, M. D. 

FELLOW OF AND SECRETARY TO THE ROYAL SOCIETY. 
ON ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. 

THE REV. WILLIAM BUCKLAND, D. D. F. R. S. 

CANON OF CHRIST CHURCH, AND PROFESSOR OF GEOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 
ON GEOLOGY AND MINERALOGY. 

THE REV. WILLIAM KIRBY, M. A. F. R. S. 

ON THE HISTORY, HABITS, AND INSTINCTS OF ANIMALS. 

WILLIAM PROUT, M. D. F. R. S. 

ON CHEMISTRY, METEOROLOGY, AND THE FUNCTION OF DIGESTION. 

His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, President of the Royal Society, 
having desired that no unnecessary delay should take place in the publication 
of the above-mentioned treatises, they will appear at short intervals, as they 
are ready for publication. 



PREFACE. 



When one has to maintain an argument, he will be listened t. i 
more willingly if he is known to be unbiassed, and to express his 
natural sentiments. The reflections contained in these pages have 
not been suggested by the occasion of the Bridgewater Treatises, 
but arose, long ago, in a course of study, directed to other objects. 
An anatomical teacher, who is himself aware of the higher bearings 
of his science, can hardly neglect the opportunity which the demon- 
strations before him afford, of making an impression upon the minds 
pf those young men who, for the most part, receive the elements of 
their professional education from him ; and he is naturally led to in- 
dulge in such trains of reflection, as will be found in this essay. 

So far back as the year 1813, the late excellent vicar of Kensing- 
ton, Mr. Rennell, attended the author's lectures, and found him 
engaged in maintaining the principles of the English school of 
Physiology, and in exposing the futility of the opinions of those 
French philosophers and physiologists, who represented life as the 
mere physical result of certain combinations and actions of parts, 
by them termed Organization. 

That gentleman thought that the subject admitted of an argument 
which it became him to use, in his office of " Christian Advocate."* 
This will show the reader that the sentiments and the views, which 
a sense of duty to the young men about him induced the author to 
deliver, and which Mr. Rennell heard only by accident, arose natu- 
rally out of those studies. 

It was at the desire of the Lord Chancellor that the author wrote 
the essay on "Animal Mechanics;" and it was probably from a 
belief that the author felt the importance of the subjects touched 
upon in that essay, that his lordship was led to do him the further 

* An office in the University of Cambridge. 



X PREFACE. 

honour of asking him to join with him in illustrating the " Natural 
Theology" of Dr. Paley. 

That request was especially important, as showing, that the 
conclusions, to which the author had arrived, were not the peculiar 
or accidental suggestions of professional feeling, nor of solitary 
study, which is so apt to lead to enthusiasm, but that the powerful 
and masculine mind of Lord Brougham was directed to the same 
object : that he, who in early life was distinguished for his success- 
ful prosecution of science, and who has never forgotten her inte- 
rests amidst the most arduous and active duties of his high station, 
encouraged and partook of these sentiments. 

Thus, from at first maintaining that design and benevolence were 
every where visiblejn the natural world, circumstances have gradu- 
ally drawn the author to support these opinions more ostentatiously 
and elaborately than was his original wish. 

The author cannot conceal from himself the disadvantages to 
which he is exposed in coming before the public, not only with a 
work, in some measure extra-professional, but with associates, dis- 
tinguished by classical elegance of style, as well as by science. 
He must entreat the reader to remember that he was, early and 
long, devoted to the study of anatomy ; and with a feeling (right or 
wrong) that it surpassed all other studies, in interest and usefulness. 
This made him negligent of those acquirements which would have 
better fitted him for the honourable association in which he has been 
placed : and no one can feel more deeply that the suggestions 
which occur in the intervals of an active professional life, must al- 
ways be unfavourably contrasted with what comes of the learned 
leisure of a College. 

The author has to acknowledge his obligation to Davies Gilbert, 
Esq. late President of the Royal Society, for having assigned to 
him a task of so much interest. When he undertook it, he thought 
only of the pleasure of pursuing these investigations, and perhaps 
too little of what the public were entitled to expect from an Essay 
composed in circumstances so peculiar, and forming a part in " this 
great argument." 



CONTENTS. 



CHAP. I. Introductory - - - - - - 13 

CHAP. II. Definition of the Hand - - - - -30 

Its Mechanism - - - - - - - 20 

Conformity of the Skeleton to the Extremity- 
Bones of the Extremity not adapted to Man alone - - 31 
Fossil Bones exhibit the Extent of the System - 
Animals the most uncouth, in every respect adapted to their Con- 
dition - - - - - - - -21 

Mistaken Compassion for Animals - 

Animals suited to the progressive Changes of the Earth and Elements 26 
Succession and Grouping of Animals - - - - - 1 

CHAP. III. The Comparative Anatomy of the Hand - - 30 
Comparative View of the Anatomy of the Shoulder - - 31 
The Arms wanting in a Boy ----- 35 

The Structure of the Horse's Shoulder - - - - 

In the Chelonian Order - - - - - -38 

The Humerus. Spirit in which the Demonstration should be given 
Peculiarities in the Mole - - - - - -42 

Bat - 43. 

Ant-Eater -------- 41 

Adaptation of the Anatomy in Birds - - - - 15 

The Anatomy of the Fore-Arm - - - - -48 

The Action of the Splint Bone in the Horse - - - 11 
Horse's Foot ------ 

Of Ruminants - - - 

Contrast in the Bone of the Elephant and the Camel - -54 
Mechanism in the Lion's Claw ----- 

B6 

56 



Megalonix ------ 

Criticism by Cuvier - 
The Foot of the Quadrumana - 

Of Amphibia ------- 

Plesiosaurus and Ichthyosaurus - 
Peculiarities and Provisions of the Human Hand 
CHAP. IV. Of the Muscles of the Arm and Hand 
Action of the Muscles of the Arm - 

Interchange of Velocity for Force, exemplified in the Muscles of the 

Arm - - -' 
Illustrated by the Lever and Fly-wheel 



xii 



CONTENTS. 



Muscles of the Lion's Extremity - 67 

Vital Property of the Muscles - - - - 67 

Peculiarities in the Circulation of the Extremities as subservient to 
Muscular action -------67 

Of the Right and Left Hands ----- 68 



CHAP. V. The Substitution of other Organs for the Hand - 69 

CHAP. VI. The Argument pursued, from the Comparative Anatomy 72 

CHAP. VII. Of Sensibility and Touch - - - 80 

The Sensibility of the Surface compared with that of the deeper Parts 80 

Pain the Safeguard of the Body - - - - 83 

The protecting Sensibility of the Eye compared with the Sensibility 

of the Heart ------- 85 

Pleasurable Sensations could not have been the Motives to Action 88 
CHAP. VIII. Of the Senses generally, introductory to the Sense 

of Touch ------- 89 

The Sense of Touch 93 

Of the Cuticle - - 94 

The Hoofs of Animals and their Sensibility - - 95 
CHAP. IX. Of the Muscular Sense - 98 
Of the Sensibility of the Infant to Impressions, and gradual Improve- 
ment of the Sense of Touch ----- 98 

Of the same in Insects and Fishes ----- 103' 

Loss of the Sense - - - - - - - 104 

Pleasures arising from the Muscular Sense - - - 104 
CHAP. X. The Hand not the Source of Ingenuity or Contrivance, 

nor consequently of Man's superiority - 106 

The Subject illustrated by the Organs of Speech - - 108 

The Ingenuity of the Hand has made a Revolution in the Arts - 109 

Changes in the Globe and successive Epochs - - - 110 
Conclusion - - - - - - -113 

ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 
The Mechanical properties of the solid Structure of the Animal 

Body considered - - - - - - 117 

Substitute for the Skeleton in the lower Animals - - 117 

Mechanical properties in Bone, or in the true Skeleton - - 119 

The Muscular and Elastic Forces - - - - 124 

Comparison of the Eye with the Hand - 125 
The Motion of the Eye considered in regard to the Effect of Light and 

Shade in a Picture 134 

Addition to the concluding Chapter - - - - 139 

APPENDIX. 

Explanation of Terms ------ 143 



THE HAND, 

ITS MECHANISM AND VITAL ENDOWMENTS, 

AS EVINCING DESIGN. 



CHAPTER I. 

If we contemplate any natural object, especially any part of 
animated nature, fully and in all its bearings, we can arrive only 
at this conclusion : that there is design in the mechanical construc- 
tion, benevolence shown in the living properties, and that good pre- 
dominates: we shall perceive that the sensibilities of the body have 
a relation to the qualities of things external, and that delicacy of 
texture is a necessary consequence of this relation. 

Wonderful; and exquisitely constructed, as the mechanical ap- 
pliances are for the protection of this delicate structure, they are 
altogether insufficient; and a protection of a very different kind, 
which shall animate the body to the utmost exertion, is requisite 
for safety. Pain, whilst it is a necessary contrast to its opposite 
pleasure, is the great safeguard of the frame. Finally, as to man. 
we shall be led to infer that the pains and pleasures of mere bodily 
sense (with yet more benevolent intention) carry us onward, through 
the developement and improvement of the mind itself, to higher as- 
pirations. 

Such is the course of reasoning which I propose to follow in 
giving an account of the hand and arm, contrasting them with the 
corresponding parts of living creatures, through all the divisions - 
the chain of vertebrated animals. 

When I first thought of extending my notes on this subject, il 
appeared to me that I might have many other topics more prolific 
in proofs of design, and more interesting; but I now find that there 
is no end to illustration, and that the subject branches out inter- 
minably. 

2 



14 



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 



Some may conceive that as I have for my title the Human Hand, 
and the relation of the solid structures of the animal frame, it will 
lead me to consider the body as a machine only. I neither see the 
necessity for this, nor do I acknowledge the danger of considering 
it in that light. I embark fearlessly in the investigation, convinced 
that, yielding to the current of thought, and giving the fullest scope 
to inquiry, there can be no hidden danger if the mind be free from 
vicious bias. I cannot see how scepticism should arise out of the 
contemplation of the structure and mechanism of the animal body. 

Let us for a moment think what is the natural result of examining 
the human body as a piece of machinery, and let us see whether it 
makes the creation of man more or less important in his relation to 
the whole scheme of nature. 

Suppose that there is placed before us a machine for raising great 
weights, be it the simplest of all, the wheel and axle. We are given 
to understand that this piece of mechanism has the property of mul- 
tiplying the power of the hand. But a youth of subtile mind may 
say, I do not believe that it is possible so to multiply the power of 
the hand ; and if the mechanician be a philosopher, he will rather 
applaud the spirit of doubt. If he condescend to explain, he will 
say, that the piles driven into the ground, or the screws which unite 
the machinery to the beams, are the fixed points which resist in the 
working of the machine ; that their resistance is a necessary con- 
dition, since it is thrown, together with the power of the hand, on 
the weight to be raised. And he will add that the multiplication of 
wheels does not alter the principle of action, which every one may 
see in the simple lever, to result from the resistance of the fulcrum 
or point, on which it rests. 

Now grant that man's body is a machine, where are the points 
of resistance ? are they not in the ground he stands upon 1 This 
leads us to inquire by what property we stand. Is it by the weight 
of the body, or in other words, is it by the attraction of the 
earth ? The terms attraction, or gravitation, lead at once to the 
philosophy of the question. We stand because the body has weight, 
and a resistance, in proportion to the matter of the animal frame, 
and the magnitude of the globe itself. We wait not at present to 
observe the adjustment of the strength of the frame, the resistance 
of the bones, the elasticity of the joints, and the power of the 
muscles to the weight of the whole. Our attention is directed to 
the relations which the frame has to the earth we are placed 
upon. 

Some philosophers, who have considered the matter curiously, 
have said, that if man were translated bodily to another planet, 
and were it smaller than the earth, he would be too light, and he 
would walk like one wading in deep water. If the planet were 
larger, the attraction of his body would make him feel as if his limbs 



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 



15 



were loaded with lead ; nay, the attraction might be so great as to 
destroy the fabric of the body, crushing bones and all.* 

However idle these fancies may be, there is no doubt that the 
animal frame is formed with a due relation to the earth we in- 
habit, and that the parts of the animal body, and we may say the 
strength of the materials, have as certainly a correspondence with 
the weight, as the wheels and levers of a machine, or the scaffolding 
which sustains them, have relative to the force and velocity of 
the machinery, or the load that they are employed to raise. 

The mechanism and organization of animals have been often 
brought forward for a different purpose from that for which 1 use 
them. We find it said, that it is incomprehensible that an all-power- 
ful Being should manifest his will in this manner; that mecha- 
nical contrivance implies difficulties overcome: and how strange 
it is, they add, that the perceptions of the mind, which might have 
been produced by some direct means, or have arisen spontaneously, 
are received through an instrument so fine and complex as the eye ; 
— and which requires the creation pf the element of light, to enter 
the organ and to cause vision. 

For my own part, I think it most natural to contemplate the 
subject quite differently. We perhaps presume too much, when we 
say, that light has been created for the purpose of vision. We are 
hardly entitled to pass over its properties as a chemical agent, its 
influence on the gases, and, in all probability on the atmosphere, 
its importance to vegetation, to the formation of the aromatic and 
volatile principles, and to fructification, its influence on the animal 
surface by invigorating the circulation, and imparting health. In 
relation to our present subject, it seems more rational to consider 
light as second only to attraction, in respect to its importance in 
nature, and as a link connecting systems of infinite remoteness. 

To have a conception of this we must tutor our minds, and 
acquire some measure of the velocity of light, and of the space 
which it fills. It is not sufficient to say that it moves 200,000 
miles in a second; for we can comprehend no such degree oi 
velocity. If we are further informed that the earth is distanl from 
the sun 95,000,000 of miles, and that light traverses the space in 8 
minutes and l-8th, it is but another way of affirming the incon- 
ceivable rapidity of its transmission. Astronomers, the power of 
whose mind affords us the very highest estimate of human faculties, 
the accuracy of whose calculations is hourly visible to us, have af- 
firmed that light emanates from celestial bodies at such vast dis- 
tance, that thousands of vears shall elapse during its progress to <>ur 
earth: yet matter impelled by a force equal to its transmission 

* The matter of Jupiter is as 330,600 to 1000 of our Earth. The diameter of 
Pallas is 80 mites; the Earth is 7,911 miles in diameter. 



16 



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 



through this space, shall enter the eye, and strike upon the delicate 
nerve with no other effect than to produce vision. 

Instead of saying that light is created for the eye, and to give 
us the sense of vision, is it not more conformable to a just manner 
of considering these things that our wonder and our admiration 
should fix on the fact, that this small organ, the eye, is formed 
with relation to a creation of such vast extent and grandeur : — and 
more especially, that the ideas arising in the mind through the in- 
fluence of that matter and this organ, are constituted a part of 
this vast whole ! 

By such considerations w 7 e are led to contemplate the human 
body in its different relations. The magnitude of the earth deter- 
mines the strength of our bones, and the power of our muscles; 
so must the depth of the atmosphere determine the condition of 
our fluids, and the resistance of our blood vessels; the common 
act of breathing, the transpiration from the surfaces, must bear 
relation to the weight, moisture, and temperature of the medium 
which surrounds us. A moment's reflection on these facts proves to 
us that our body is formed with a just correspondence to all these 
external influences. 

These views leads us to another consideration, that the com- 
plexity of our structure belongs to exernal nature, and not of neces- 
sity to the mind. Whilst man is an agent in a material world, 
and sensible to the influence of things external, complexity of struc- 
ture is a necessary part of his constitution. But we do not per- 
ceive a relation between this complexity and the mind. From 
aught that we learn by this mode of study, the mind may be as dis- 
tinct from the bodily organs as are the exterior influences which 
give them exercise. 

Something, then, we observe to be common to our planet and to 
others, to our system, and to other systems; matter, attraction, light ; 
which nearly implies that the mechanical and chemical laws must 
be the same throughout. It is perhaps too much to affirm, with an 
anonymous author, that an inhabitant of our w r orld would find 
himself at home in any other, that he would be like a traveller 
only, for a moment perplexed by diversity of climate and strange- 
ness of manners, and confess, at last, that nature was everywhere 
and essentially the same. However this may be, all I contend for 
is, the necessity of certain relations being established between the 
planet and the frames of all which inhabit it; between the great 
mass and the physical properties of every part ; that in the mecha- 
nical construction of animals, as in their endowments of life, they 
are created in relation to the whole, planned together and fashioned 
by one Mind. 

The passiveness which is natural in infancy, and the want of 
reflection as to the sources of enjoyment which is excusable in 



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 17 

youth, become insensibility and ingratitude in riper years. In the 

early stages of life, before our minds have the full power of c i 

prehension, the objects around us serve but to excite and exercise 
the outward senses. But in the maturity of reason, philosophy 
should present these things to us anew, with this difference, that 
the mind may contemplate them; that mind which is now strength- 
ened by experience to comprehend them, and to entertain a grate- 
ful sense of them. 

It is this sense of gratitude which distinguishes man. In brute* 
the attachment to offspring for a limited period is as strong as in him 
but it ceases with the necessity for it. In man, on the contrary the 
affections continue, become the sources of all the endearing rela- 
tions of life, and the very bonds by which society is connected. 

If the child, upon the parent's knee, is unconsciously incurring a 
debt, and strong affections grow up so naturally that nothing is 
more universally condemned than filial ingratitude, we have but to 
change the object of affection, to find the natural source of religion 
itself. We must show that the care of the most tender parent is 
in nothing to be compared with those provisions for our enjoyment 
and safety, which it is not only beyond the ingenuity of man to 
provide, but which he can hardly comprehend, while he profits by 
them. 

If man, of all living creatures, be alone capable of gratitude, 
and through this sense be capable also of religion, the transition is 
natural; since the gratitude due to parents is abundantly more 
owing to Him " who saw him in his blood, and said, Live." 

For the continuance of life, a thousand provisions are made. If 
the vital actions of a man's frame were directed by his will, they 
are necessarily so minute and complicated, that they would imme- 
diately fall into confusion. He cannot draw a breath, without the 
exercise of sensibilities as well ordered as those of the eye or car. 
A tracery of nervous cords unites many organs in sympathy, of 
which, if one filament were broken, pain and spasm, and suffocation 
would ensue. The action of his heart, and the circulation of Ins 
blood, and all the vital functions are governed through means and 
by laws which are not dependent on his will, and to which the 
powers of his mind are altogether inadequate. For had they been 
under the influence of his will, a doubt, a moment's pause of irre- 
solution, a forgetfulness of a single action at its appointed time, 
would have terminated his existence. 

Now, when man sees that his vital operations could not be directed 
by reason — that they are constant, and far too important to be ex- 
posed to all the changes incident to his mind, and that they are 
given up to the direction of other sources of motion than the 
will, he acquires a full sense of his dependence. If man be fret- 
ful and wayward, and subject to inordinate passion, we perceive 
the benevolent design in withdrawing the vital motions from the in- 

3 



18 



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 



fluence of such capricious sources of action, so that they may neither 
be disturbed like his moral actions, nor lost in a moment of despair. 

Ray, in speaking of the first drawing of breath, delivers himself 
very naturally: " Here, methinks, appears a necessity of bringing in 
the agency of some superintendant intelligent being, for what else 
should put the diaphragm and the muscles serving respiration in 
motion all of a sudden so soon as ever the foetus is brought forth ? 
Why could they not have rested as well as they did in the womb 1 
What aileth them that they must needs bestir themselves to get in 
air to maintain the creature's life 1 Why could they not patiently 
suffer it to die ? You will say the spirits do at this time flow to 
the organs of respiration, the diaphragm, and other muscles which 
concur to that action and move them. But what raises the spirits 
which were quiescent, &c, I am not subtile enough to discover." 

We cannot call this agency, a new intelligence different from 
the mind, because, independently of consciousness, we can hardly 
so define it. But there is bestowed a sensibility, which being 
roused (and it is excited by the state of the circulation,) governs 
these muscles of respiration, and ministers to life and safety, inde- 
pendently of the will. 

When man thus perceives, that in respect to all these vital ope- 
rations he is more helpless than the infant, and that his boasted 
reason can neither give them order nor protection, is not his insen- 
sibility to the Giver of these secret endowments worse than ingrati- 
tude ? In a rational creature, ignorance of his condition becomes 
a species of ingratitude ; it dulls his sense of benefits, and hardens 
him into a temper of mind with which it is impossible to reason, 
and from which no improvement can be expected. 

Debased in some measure by a habit of inattention, and lost to 
all sense of the benevolence of the Creator, he is roused to reflection 
only by overwhelming calamities, which appear to him magnified 
and disproportioned ; and hence arises a conception of the Author 
of his being more in terror than in love. 

There is inconsistency and something of the child's propensities' 
still in mankind. A piece of mechanism, as a watch, a barometer, 
or a dial, will fix attention — a man will make journeys to see an en- 
gine stamp a coin, or turn a block ; yet the organs through which 
he has a thousand sources of enjoyment, and which are in themselves 
more exquisite in design and more curious both in contrivance and 
in mechanism, do not enter his thoughts ; and if he admire a living 
action, that admiration will probably be more excited by what is 
uncommon and monstrous, than by what is natural and perfectly ad- 
justed to its office — by the elephant's trunk, than by the human hand. 
This does not arise from an unwillingness to contemplate the supe- 
riority or dignity of our own nature, nor from an incapacity of ad- 
miring the adaptation of parts. It is the effect of habit. The hu- 



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. ];) 

man hand is so beautifully formed, it has so fine a .sensibility, that 
sensibility governs its motions so correctly, every effort of the will 
is answered so instantly, as if the hand itself were the scat of that 
will ; its actions are so powerful, so free, and yet so delicate, that it 
seems to possess a quality instinct in itself, and there is no thought of 
its complexity as an instrument, or of the relations which make it 
subservient to the mind; we use it as we draw our bn-atl.. uncon- 
sciously and have lost all recollection of the feeble and ill-dir- 
efforts of its first exercise, by which it has been perfected, [s it not 
the very perfection of the instrument which makes us insensible to 
its use? A vulgar admiration is excited by seeing the spider-monkey 
pick up a straw, or a piece of wood, with its tail; or the elephant 
searching the keeper's pocket with his trunk. Now, fully to exa- 
mine the peculiarity of the elephant's structure, that is to say, from its 
huge mass, to deduce the necessity for its form, and from the form 
the necessity for its trunk, would lead us through a train of very 
curious observations, to a more correct notion of that append 
and therefore to a truer admiration of it. But I take this part in 
contrast with the human hand, merely to show how insensible we 
are to the perfections of our own frame, and to the advantages at- 
tained through such a form. We use the limbs without being con- 
scious, or, at least, without any conception of the thousand parts 
which must conform to a single act. To excite our attention, we 
must either see the actions of the human frame performed in some 
mode, strange and unexpected, such as may raise the wonder of the 
ignorant and vulgar; or by an effort of the cultivated mind, we 
must rouse ourselves to observe things and actions, of w 7 hich, as we 
have said, the sense has been lost by long familiarity. 

In the following essay, I- shall take up the subject comparatively, 
and exhibit a view of the bones of the arm, descending from the hu- 
man hand to the fin of the fish. I shall in the next place review the 
actions of the muscles of the arm and hand; then proceeding to the 
vital properties, I shall advance to the subject of sensibility, leading 
to that of touch; afterwards, I shall show the necessity of combin- 
ing the muscular action with the exercise of the senses, and especi- 
ally with that of touch, to constitute in the hand what has been rail- 
ed the geometrical sense. 

I shall describe the organ of touch, the cuticle and skin, and ar- 
range the nerves of the hand according to their functions. 1 shall 
then inquire into the correspondence between the capacities ami en- 
dowments of the mind, in comparison with the external organs, and 
more especially with the properties of the hand ; and cone I in If by 
showing that animals have been created with a reference t<> the 
globe they inhabit ; that all their endowments and various organiza- 
tion bear a relation to their state of existence, and to the elements 
around them; that there is a plan universal, extending through all 
animated nature, and which has prevailed in the earliest condition 



20" 



THE HAND, ITS MECHANISM, ETC. 



of the world ; and that, finally, in the most minute or most compre- 
hensive study of those things we every where see prospective de- 
sign. 



CHAPTER II. 

We ought to define the hand as belonging exclusively to man- 
corresponding in sensibility and motion with that ingenuity which 
converts the being who is the weakest in natural defence, to the 
ruler over animate and inanimate nature. 

If we describe the hand as that extremity which has the thumb 
and fingers opposed to each other, so as to form an instrument of 
prehension, we extend it to the quadrumana or monkeys. But the 
possession of four hands by animals of that class implies that we in- 
clude the posterior as well as the anterior extremities. Now the 
anterior extremity of the monkey is as much a foot as the posterior 
extremity is a hand ; both are calculated for their mode of progres- 
sion, climbing, and leaping from the branches of trees, just as the 
tail in some species is converted into a hand, and is as useful an in- 
strument of suspension as any of the four extremities.* 

The armed extremities of a variety of animals give them great 
advantages ; but if man possessed any similar provisions, he would 
forfeit his sovereignty over all. As Galen, long since, observed, 
" did man possess the natural armour of the brutes, he would no 
longer work as an artificer, nor protect himself with a breast-plate, 
nor fashion a sword or spear, nor invent a bridle to mount the horse 
and hunt the lion. Neither could he follow the arts of peace, con- 
struct the pipe and lyre, erect houses, place altars, inscribe laws, 
and through letters hold communion with the wisdom of antiquity:" 
— "tibique liceat liter arum et manuum beneficiis etiam nunc colloqui 
cum Platone, cum Aristotele, cum Hippocrate." 

But the hand is not a distinct instrument ; nor is it properly a su- 

* The Coaita, or Spider Monkey, so called from the extraordinary length of its 
extremities, and its motions. The tail answers all the purposes of a hand, and the 
animal throws itself about from branch to branch, sometimes swinging- from the 
foot, sometimes by the hand, but oftener and with a greater reach by the tail. The 
prehensile part of the tail is covered only with skin, forming an organ of touch, as 
discriminating as the hand. The Caraya, or black howling monkey of Cumana, 
when shot, is found suspended by its tail, round a branch. Naturalists have been 
so struck with the property of the tail of the Ateles, as to compare it with the pro- 
boscis of the elephant ; they have assured us that they fish with it. 

The most interesting use of the tail is seen in the Opossum. The young of that 
animal entwine their tails around their mother's tail and mount upon her back, 
where they sit secure, while she escapes from her enemies. 



THE HAND, ITS MECHANISM, ETC. 



21 



peradded part. The whole frame must conform to the hand, and 
act with reference to it. Our purpose will not be answered by ex- 
amining it alone ; we must extend our views to all those parts of the 
body which are in strict connection with the hand. For example, 
the bones from the shoulder to the finger ends, have that systematic 
arrangement which makes it essential to examine the whole extre- 
mity ; and in order fully to comprehend the fine arrangement of the 
parts, which is necessary to the motions of the fingers, we must also 
compare the structure of the human body with that of other ani- 
mals. 

Were we to limit our inquiry to the bones of the arm and hand 
in man, no doubt we should soon discover their provisions for easy, 
varied, and powerful action ; and conclude that nothing could be 
more perfectly suited to their purposes. But we must extend our 
views to comprehend a great deal more, — a greater design. 

By a skeleton, is understood the system of bones, which being in- 
ternal, gives the characteristic form to the animal, and receives the 
action of the exterior muscles. This system belongs, however, only 
to one part of the animal kingdom, that higher division, — the anima- 
lia vertebrata, which includes the whole chain of beings, from man 
to fishes. 

The function of the greatest consequence to life is respiration; 
and the mode in which this is performed, that is to say, the manner 
in which the decarbonization of the blood is effected through its ex- 
posure to the atmosphere, produces a remarkable change in the 
whole frame-work of the animal body. 

Man, the mammalia, birds, reptiles, and fishes have much of the 
mechanism of respiration in common ; and there is a resemblance 
through them all, in the texture of the bones, in the action of the 
muscles, and in the arrangement of the nerves. They all possess 
the vertebral column or spine; and the existence of this column, not 
only implies an internal skeleton, but that particular frame-work of 
ribs, which is suited to move in breathing. But the ribs do not move 
of themselves, they must have appropriate muscles ; and these mus- 
cles must have their appropriate nerves; and for supplying these 
nerves there must be a spinal marrow. The spinal canal is as ne- 
cessary to the spinal marrow as the skull is to the brain. So that 
we come round to understand the necessity of a vertebra, to the for- 
mation of the spinal marrow; and the reader may comprehend how 
much enters into the conception of the anatomist or naturalist, when 
the term is used, a vertebrated animal, viz :— an internal skeleton, a 
particular arrangement of respiratory organs, and a conformity in 
the nervous svstem. 

It is to this'superior division that I shall limit myself, m making a 
review of the bones of the upper extremity. . 

Were I to indulge in the admiration naturally arising opt ol tins 
subject, and point out the strength and the freedom of motion to the 



22 



THE EONES OF THE EXTREMITY 



upper extremity at the ball and socket joint of the shoulder, — the 
firmness of the articulation of the elbow, and yet how admirably it 
is suited to the co-operation of the hands, — the fineness of the motion 
of the hand itself, divided among the joints of twenty-nine bones, it 
might be objected to with some show of reason ; and it might be 
said, the bones and the forms of the joints which you are admiring, 
are so far from being peculiarly suited to the hand of man, that they 
may be found in any other vertebrated animal. 

But this would not abate our admiration, it would only induce us 
to take a more comprehensive view of nature, and remind us that 
our error was in looking at a part only, instead of embracing the 
whole system ; where by slight changes and gradations hardly per- 
ceptible, the same bones are adjusted to every condition of animal 
existence. 

We recognise the bones which form the upper extremity of man, 
in the fin of the whale, in the paddle of the turtle, and in the wing 
of the bird. We see the same bones, perfectly suited to their pur- 
pose, in the paw of the lion or the bear, and equally fitted for mo- 
tion in the hoof of the horse, or in the foot of the camel, or adjusted 
for climbing or digging in the long clawed feet of the sloth or bear. 

It is obvious, then, that we should be occupied with too limited a 
view of our subject, were we to consider the human hand in any 
other light than as presenting the most perfect combination of parts : 
as exhibiting the parts, which in different animals are suited to par- 
ticular purposes, so combined in the hand, as to perform actions the 
most minute and complicated, consistently with powerful exertion. 

The wonder still is, that whether we examine this system in man, 
or in any of the inferior species of animals, nothing can be more cu- 
riously adjusted or appropriated ; and w r e should be inclined to say, 
whatever instance occupied our thoughts for the time, that to this 
particular object the system had been framed. 

The view which the subject opens to us, is unbounded. The cu- 
rious synthesis by which we ascertain the nature, condition, and 
habits of an extinct animal, from the examination of its fossil re- 
mains, is grounded on a knowledge of the system of which we are 
speaking. A bone consists of many parts ; but for our present pur- 
pose it is only necessary to observe that the hard substance, the 
phosphate of lime, which we familiarly recognise as bone, is every- 
where penetrated by membranes and vessels as delicate as those 
which belong to any other part of the body. Some bones are found 
with their animal part remaining, others are fossilized. The phos- 
phate of lime loses its phosphoric acid, and the earth of bone re- 
mains incorruptible, while the softer animal matter undergoes the 
process of decomposition, and is dissipated. The bone in this con- 
dition may become fossilized; silicious earth, or lime in composition 
with iron, or iron pyrites, may pass by infiltration into the interstices 
of the original earthy matter, and in this state it is as permanent as 



NOT ADAPTED TO MAN ALONE. 23 

the solid rock. It retains the form, though not the internal struc- 
ture ot bone ; and that form, in consequence of the perfect system 
which we have hinted at, becomes a proof of revolutions the' most 
extraordinary. The mind of the inquirer is carried back, not merely 
to the contemplation of animal structure, but by inference, from the 
system of animal organization to the structure of the globe itself 

The bones of large animals and in great variety are found im- 
bedded in the surface of the earth. They are discovered in the beds 
of rivers, they are found where no waters flow, they are duo- up 
from under the solid limestone rock. The bones thus exposed! be- 
come naturally a subject of intense interest, and are unexpectedly 
connected with the inquiry in which we are engaged. Amon^ 
other important conclusions they lead to this— that there is not only 
a scheme or system of animal structure pervading all the classes of 
animals which inhabit the earth, but that the principle of this great 
plan of creation was in operation, and governed the formation of 
those animals which existed previous to the revolutions that the 
earth itself has undergone : that the excellence of form now seen in 
the skeleton of man, was in the scheme of animal existence long pre- 
vious to the formation of man, and before the surface of the earth 
was prepared for him or suited to his constitution, structure, or ca- 
pacities. 

A skeleton is dug up which has lain under many fathoms of rock : 
being the bones of an animal which lived antecedent to that forma- 
tion of rock, and at a time when the earth's surface must have been 
in a condition very different from what it is now. These remains 
prove, that all animals have been formed of the same elements, and 
have had analogous organs — that they received new matter by di- 
gestion, and were nourished by means of a circulating fluid — that 
they possessed feeling through a nervous system, and were moved 
by the action of muscles— that their organs of digestion, circulation, 
and respiration were modified by circumstances, as in the animals 
now alive, and in accordance with their habits and modes of living. 
The changes in the organs are but variations in the great system 
by which new matter is assimilated to the animal body, — and how- 
ever remarkable these may be, they always bear a certain relation 
to the original type as parts of the same great design. 

In examining these bones of the ancient world, so regularly arc 
they formed on the same principle which is evident in the animals 
now inhabiting the earth, that on observing their shape, and the pro- 
cesses by which their muscles were attached, we can reduce the 
animals to which they belonged, to their orders, genera, and species, 
with as much precision as if the recent bodies had been submitted 
to the eye of the anatomist. Not only can we demonstrate that their 
feet w r ere adapted to the solid ground, or to the oozy bed of rivers. — 
for speed, or for grasping and tearing; but judging by these indica- 
tions of the habits of the animals, we acquire a knowledge ot the 



24 



ANIMALS THE MOST UNCOUTH 



condition of the earth during their period of existence ; that it was 
suited at one time to the scaly tribe of the lacertse, with languid mo- 
tion ; at another, to animals of higher organization, with more va- 
ried and lively habits; and finally we learn, that at any period pre- 
vious to man's creation, the surface of the earth would have been 
unsuitable to him. 

On comparing some of the present races of animals, with the fos- 
sil remains of individuals of the same family, some singular opinions 
on their imperfections have been expressed by BufFon, and adopted 
by Cuvier. The animals I allude to are of the tardigrade family ; 
the Aij* in which, as they believe, the defect of organization is the 
greatest ; and the Unau, f which they consider only a little less 
miserably provided for existence. 

Modern travellers express their pity for these animals: whilst 
other quadrupeds, they say, range in boundless wilds, the sloth hangs 
suspended by his strong arms — a poor ill-formed creature, deficient 
as well as deformed, his hind legs too short, and his hair like wither- 
ed grass ; his looks, motions, and cries conspire to excite pity; and, 
as if this were not enough, they say that his moaning makes the 
tiger relent and turn away. This is not a true picture : the sloth 
cannot walk like quadrupeds, but he stretches out his strong arms, — 
and if he can hook on his claws to the inequalities of the ground, he 
drags himself along. This is the condition which authorizes such 
an expression as " the bungled and faulty composition of the sloth." 
But when he reaches the branch or the rough bark of a tree, his 
progress is rapid ; he climbs hand over head, along the branches 
till they touch, and thus from bough to bough, and from tree to tree ; 
he is most alive in the storm, and when the wind blows, and the 
trees stoop, and the branches wave and meet, he is then upon the 
march. 

The compassion expressed by these philosophers for animals,J 
which they consider imperfectly organized, is uncalled for; as well 
might they pity the larva of the summer fly, which creeps in the bot- 
tom of a pool, because it cannot yet rise upon the wing. As the in- 
sect has no impulse to fly until the metamorphosis is perfect, and the 
wings developed, so we have no reason to suppose that a disposition 
or instinct is given to animals, where there is no corresponding pro- 
vision for motion. 

The sloth may move tardily on the ground, his long arms and his 
preposterous claws may be an incumbrance, but they are of advan- 
tage in his natural place, among the branches of trees, in obtaining 
his food, and in giving him shelter and safety from his enemies. 

* Bradypus Tridactylus : — bradypus (slow-footed^) tridactylus {three-toed,) of the 
order Edentata (wanting incisor teeth.) 
f Bradypus didactylus. 

i The subject is pursued in the end of the following' chapter. 



SUITED TO THEIR COXDITION. 



25 



We must not estimate the slow motions of animals by our own 
sensations. The motion of the bill of the swallow, or the fly-catcher, 
in catching a fly, is so rapid that we do not see it, but only hear the 
snap. On the contrary, how very different are the means given to 
the chamelion for obtaining his food ; he lies more still than the dead 
leaf, his skin is like the bark of the tree, and takes the hue of sur- 
rounding objects. Whilst other animals have excitement conform- 
ing to their rapid motions, the shrivelled face of the chamelion hardly 
indicates life; the eyelids are scarcely parted; he protrudes his 
tongue with a motion so imperceptible towards the insect, that it is 
touched and caught more certainly than by the most lively action. 
Thus, various creatures living upon insects, reach their prey by dif- 
ferent means and instincts ; rapidity of motion, which gives no time 
for escape, is bestowed on some, while others have a languid and 
slow movement that excites no alarm. 

The loris, a tardigrade animal, might be pitied too for the slow- 
ness of its motions, if they were not the very means bestowed upon 
it as necessary to its existence. It steals on its prey by night, and 
extends its arm to the bird on the branch, with a motion so imper- 
ceptibly slow, as to make sure of its object * Just so, the Indian 
perfectly naked, his hair cut short, and his skin oiled, creeps under 
the canvass of the tent, and moving like a ghost, stretches out his 
hand, with so gentle a motion as to displace nothing, and to disturb 
not even those who are awake and watching. Against such thieves, 
we are told, that it is hardly possible to guard ; and thus, the neces- 
sities or vicious desires of man subjugate him, and make him acquire, 
by practice, the wiliness which is implanted as instinct in brutes ; or 
we may say that in our reason we are brought to imitate the irra- 
tional creatures, and so to vindicate the necessity for their particular 
instincts, of which every class affords an instance. We have ex- 
amples in insects, as striking as in the loris or the chamelion. Eve- 
lyn describes the actions of the spider (aranea scenica) as exhibiting 
remarkable cunning in catching a fly. " Did the fly, (he says,) hap- 
pen not to be within a leap, the spider would move towards it, so 
softly, that its motion seemed not more perceptible than that of the 
shadow of the gnomon of a dial."f 

* For our purpose, it may be well to notice other characters of this and similar 
animals which prowl by night. They are inhabitants ^^cA ^^ ^ 
the various creatures which enliven the woods m the day-time ,n tl us wa m cU 
mates, have fine skins, and smooth hair , but those have a coat ike animate of me 
arctic regions. What is this, but to clothe them, as the , jentind js< clothed, whose 
watch is in the night. They have eyes too, which, from their ^g^^S 
nocturnal, being formed to admit a greater pencil of rays. For his purpose 
globe is large and prominent, and the iris contractile, to open the ipo ■ t, 
freatest extent.-We have seen how all their motions and instincts COlWspOIMl 
with their nocturnal habits. woll i t i ±t9D 

tThe passage continues-" if the intended prey moved, the spu r * ; ^ 
pace with it exactly as if they were actuated by one spirit, moving backuaub, 



26 



MISTAKEN COMPASSION FOR 



I would only remark further on these slow motions of the muscles 
of animals ; that we are not to account this a defect, but rather an 
appropriation of muscular power. Since in some animals the same 
muscles which move their members in a manner to be hardly per- 
ceptible, can at another time act with the velocity of a spring. 

Now Buffon, speaking of the extinct species of the tardigrade 
family, considers them as monsters by defect of organization ; as 
attempts of nature in which she has failed to perfect her plan ; that 
she has produced animals which must have lived miserably, and 
which are effaced as failures from the list of living beings. The 
Baron Cuvier does not express himself more favourably, when he 
says of the existing species, that they have so little resemblance to 
the organization of animals generally, and their structure is so much 
in contrast with that of other creatures, that he could believe them 
to be the remnants of an order unsuitable to the present system of 
nature ; and if we are to look for their congeners, it must be in the 
interior of the earth, in the ruins of the ancient world. 

The animals of the Antediluvian world were not monsters ; there 
was no lusus or extravagance. Hideous as they appear to us, and like 
the phantoms of a dream, they were adapted to the condition of the 
earth when they existed. I could have wished that our naturalists had 
given the inhabitants of that early condition of the globe, names less 
scholastic. We have the plesiosaurus and plesiosaurus dolichodeirus, 
we have the ichthyosaurus and megalosaurus, and iguanodon, ptero- 
dactyles, with long and short beaks, tortoises, and crocodiles ; and 
these are found among reeds and grasses of gigantic proportions, algge 
and fuci, and a great variety of mollusca of inordinate bulk, com- 
pared with those of the present day, as ammonites and nautili. 
Every thing declares, that these animals inhabited shallow seas, and 
estuaries, or great inland lakes : that the surface of the earth did 
not rise up in peaks and mountains, or that perpendicular rocks 
bound in the seas ; but that it was flat, slimy, and covered with a 
loaded and foggy atmosphere. There is, indeed, every reason to be- 
lieve that the classes mammalia and birds were not then created, 
and that if man had been placed in this condition of the earth, there 
must have been around him a state of things unsuited to his consti- 
tution, and not calculated to call forth his capacities. 

But looking to the class of animals as we have enumerated them, 
there is a correspondence ; they were scaly ; they swam in water, 
or crept upon the margins ; there were no animals possessed of ra- 

wards, or on each side without turning". When the fly took wing*, and pitched 
itself behind the huntress, she turned round with the swiftness of thought, and al- 
ways kept her head towards it, though to all appearance as immoveable as one of 
the nails driven into the wood on which was her station ; till at last, being* arrived 
within due distance, swift as lightning she made the fatal leap, and secured her 
prey." — Evelyn, as quoted by Kirby and Spence. 



ANIMALS OF PECULIAR FORM. 



27 



pidity of motion, and no birds of prey to stoop upon them; there 
was, in short, that balance of the power of destruction and of self 
preservation, which we see now to obtain in higher animals since 
created, with infinitely varied instincts and powers for defence or 
attack. 

It is hardly possible to watch the night and see the break of day 
in a fine country, without being sensible that our pleasantest percep- 
tions refer to the scenery of nature, and that we have feelings in 
sympathy with every successive change, from the first streai of 
light, until the whole landscape is displayed in valleys, woods, and 
sparkling waters; and the changes on the scene are not more rapid 
than the transitions of the feelings which accompany them. All 
these sources of enjoyment, the clear atmosphere and the refreshing 
breezes, are as certainly the result of the several changes which the 
earth's surface has undergone, as the displaced strata within its crust 
are demonstrative of these changes. We have every reason to con- 
clude that these revolutions, whether they have been slowly accom- 
plished and progressively or by sudden, vast and successive convul- 
sions, were necessary to prepare the earth for that condition which 
should correspond with the faculties to be given to man, and be 
suited to the full exercise of his reason, as well as to his enjoyment. 

If a man contemplate the common objects around him — if he ob- 
serve the connexion between the qualities of things external and 
the exercise of his senses, between the senses so excited, and the 
condition of his mind, he will perceive that he is in the centre of a 
magnificent system, and that the strictest relation is established be- 
tween the intellectual capacities and the material world. 

In the succeeding chapter we shall take a comparative view of 
the anatomy of the arm, and- we shall be led to observe some very 
extraordinary changes, as we trace the same parts through different 
genera and species of animals. In doing this, we are naturally 
called upon to notice certain opinions which prevail on the subject. 

We have already hinted, that geologists have discovered, that in 
the stratified rocks there is proof of a regular succession of forma- 
tions in the crust of the earth, and that animals of very different 
structure have been imbedded, and are preserved in them. In the 
earlier formed strata animals are found which are low, as we choose 
to express it, in the chain of existence; in higher strata, oviparous 
animals of great bulk, and more complex structure, are discover. , 1 ; 
above the strata containing these oviparous reptiles, there arc found 
mammalia; and in the looser and more superficial stratum are the 
bones of the mastodon, megatherium, rhinoceros, and elephant. 
We must add that geologists agree that man has been created last 

of all. . . 

Upon these facts, a theory is raised, that there has been a s.irrcs- 
sion of animals gradually increasing in the perfection oi their struc- 
ture; that the first impulse of nature was not sufficient to the pro- 



28 



OF THE SUCCESSION AND 



duction of the highest and most perfect, and that it was only in her 
mature efforts that mammalia were produced. We are led to this 
reflection : that the creation of a living animal, the bestowing of 
life on a corporeal frame, however simple the structure of that body, 
is of itself an act of creative power so conceivably great, that we 
can have no title to presume that the change in the organization, 
such as the provision of bones and muscles, or the production of 
new organs of sense, is a higher effort of that power. We have a 
better guide in exploring the varieties of animated nature, when we 
acknowledge the manifest design with which all is accomplished ; 
the adaptation of the animals, their size, their economy, their or- 
gans, and instruments to their condition. 

Whether we make the most superficial or most profound exami- 
nation of animals in their natural state, we shall find that the va- 
rieties are so balanced as to ensure the existence of all. This, we 
think, goes far to explain, first, why the remains of certain animals 
are found in certain strata which imply a peculiar condition of the 
earth's surface; and, secondly, why these animals are found group- 
ed together. For, as we may express it, if there had been an error 
in the grouping, there must have been a destruction of the whole ; the 
balance which is necessary to their existence having been destroyed. 
We know very well that so minute a thing as a fly, will produce, in 
twenty-four hours, millions, which, if not checked, will ere long 
darken the air, and render whole regions desolate ; so that if the 
breeze does not carry them in due time into the desert, or into the 
ocean, the destruction will be most fearful. 

As in the present day every creature has its natural enemy ; or is 
checked in production, sometimes by a limited supply of food, some- 
times by disease, or by the influence of seasons ; and as in the whole 
a balance is preserved, we may reasonably apply the same principle 
in explanation of the condition of things as they existed in the ear- 
lier stages of the world's progress ; certainly, this view is borne out, 
by what we have as yet discovered in the grouping of animals, in 
the different stratifications or deposites of the earth. 

If the naturalist or geologist, exploring the rocks of secondary 
formation, should find inclosed within them animals of the class 
Molusca, it agrees with his preconceived notions, that only animals 
of their simple structure were in existence, at the time of the subsi- 
dence of that matter of which the rock consists. But if the spine 
of a fish, or a jawbone, or a tooth, be discovered, he is much dis- 
turbed, because, here is the indication of an animal having been at 
that time formed on a different type, — on that plan which belongs to 
animals of a superior class. — Whereas on the supposition that ani- 
mals are created with that relation to circumstances, which we 
have just alluded to, it would only imply that certain animals, which 
had hitherto increased undisturbed, had arrived at a period, when 
their numbers were to be limited ; or that the condition of the ele- 



GROUPING OF AXIMALS. 



ments and the abundance of food were now suited to the existence 
of a species of the vertebrata. 

The principle then, in the application of which we shall be borne 
out, is, that there is an adaptation, an established and universal re- 
lation between the instincts, organization, and instruments of animals 
on the one hand, and the element in which they arc to live, 
position which they hold, and their means of obtaining food on the 
other; — and this holds good with respect to the animals which have 
existed, as well as those which now exist. 

In discussing this subject of the progressive improvement of or- 
ganized beings, it is affirmed that the last created of all, man. is not 
superior in organization to the others, and that if deprived of intel- 
lectual power he is inferior to the brutes. I am not arguing to sup- 
port the gradual developement and improvement of organization; 
but, however indifferent to the tendency of the argument, I must not 
admit the statement. Man is superior in organization to the brutes, 
— superior in strength — in that constitutional property which ena- 
bles him to fulfil his destinies by extending his race in every climate, 
and living on every variety of nutriment. Gather together the mosl 
powerful brutes, from the arctic circle or torrid zone, to some cen- 
tral point — they will die, diseases will be generated, and will destroy 
them. With respect to the superiority of man being in his mind, 
and not merely in the provisions of his body, it is no doubt true ; — 
but as we proceed, we shall find how the Hand supplies all instru- 
ments, and by its correspondence with the intellect gives him uni- 
versal dominion. It presents the last and best proof of that princi- 
ple of adaptation, which evinces design in the creation. 

Another notion which we meet with, is, that the variety of ani- 
mals is not a proof of design, as showing a relation between the 
formation of their organs, and the necessity for their exercise ; but 
that the circumstances in which the animal has been placed, have 
been the cause of the variety. The influence of these circumstances, 
it is pretended, has, in the long progress of time, produced a com- 
plication of structure out of an animal which was at first simple. 
We shall reserve the discussion of this subject until we haw the 
data before us; which of themselves, and without much argument, 
will suffice to overthrow it. I may notice here another idea oi 
naturalists, who are pleased to reduce these changes in the struc- 
ture of animals into general laws. They affirm that in the centre 
of the animal body there is no disposition to change, whilst in the 
extremities we see surprising variations of form. If this be a law, 
there is no more to be said about it, the inquiry is terminated. But 
I contend that the term is quite inapplicable, and worse than useless, 
as tending to check inquiry. What then is the meaning oi this va- 
riation in the extretnities and comparative permanence towards lie 
centre of the skeleton ? I conceive the rationale to be this, that the 
central part, by which in fact they mean the skull, spine, and riDS, 



30 



COMPARATIVE ANATOMY 



are permanent in their offices ; whilst the extremities vary and are 
adapted to every exterior circumstance. The office of the back 
part of the skull is to protect the brain, that of the spine to contain 
the spinal marrow, and the ribs to perform respiration. Why should 
we expect these parts to vary in shape while their office remains 
the same? But the shoulder must vary in form, as it does in mo- 
tion. The shape of the bones and the joints of the extremities must 
be adapted to their various actions, and the carpus and phalanges 
must change, more than all the rest, to accommodate the extremity 
to its different offices. Is it not more pleasing to see the reason of 
this most surprising adjustment, than merely to say it is a law 1 

There is yet another opinion, which will suggest itself by the 
perusal of the following chapter, to those who have read the more 
modern works on Natural History. It is supposed that the same 
elementary parts belong to all animals, and that the varieties of struc- 
ture are attributable to the transposition and moulding of these ele- 
mentary parts. I find it utterly impossible to follow up this system 
to the extent which its abettors would persuade us to be practi- 
cable. 1 object to it as a means of engaging us in very trifling pur- 
suits, — and of diverting the mind from the truth ; from that con- 
clusion, indeed, to which I may avow it to be my intention to carry 
the reader. But this discussion also must follow^ the examples, and 
we shall resume it in a latter part of the volume. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE COMPARATIVE ANATOMY OF THE HAND. 

In this inquiry, we have before us what in the strictest sense 
of the word is a system. All the individuals of the extensive divi- 
sion of the animal kingdom which we have to review, possess a 
cranium for the protection of the brain, — a heart, implying a peculiar 
circulation, — five distinguishable organs of sense ; but the grand 
peculiarity, whence the term vertebrata is derived, is to be found in 
the spine ; that chain of bones which connects the head and body, 
and, like a keel, serves as a foundation for the ribs ; or as the basis 
of that fabric which is for respiration. 

I have said, that we are to confine ourselves to a portion only of 
this combined structure ; to separate and examine the anterior ex- 
tremity, and to observe the adaptation of its parts, through the 
whole range of these animals. We shall view it as it exists in man, 
and in the higher division of animals which give suck, the mam- 
malia — in those which propagate by eggs, the oviparous animals, — 



OF THE SHOULDER. 



31 



birds, reptiles, amphibia, and fishes; and we shall find the bones 
wdvich are identified by distinct features, adjusted to various pur- 
poses, in all the series, from the arm to the fin. We shall recognise 
them in the mole, formed into a powerful apparatus for digging, 
by which the animal soon covers itself, and burrows its way under 
ground. In the wing of the eagle we shall count every bone adapted 
to a new element, and as powerful to rise in the air, as the fin of the 
salmon is to strike through the water. The solid hoof of the horse, 
the cleft foot of the ruminant, the retractile claw of the feline 
tribe, the long folding nails of the sloth, are among the many 
changes that are found in the adjustment of the chain of bones 
which, in man, ministers to the compound motions of the hand. 



OF THE SHOULDER. 



32 



COMPARATIVE ANATOMY. 



Were it my purpose to teach the elements of this subject, I should 
commence with examining the lowest animals, and trace the 
bones of the anterior extremity as they come to resemble the 
human arm, and to be employed for a greater variety of uses in 
the higher animals ; but as my present object is illustration only, I 
shall begin with the human hand, and compare its parts. With 
this view, I shall divide the extremity into the shoulder, arm, and 
hand, and treat each subdivision with a reference to its structure in 
animals. 

In viewing the human figure, or human skeleton, in connexion 
with our present subject, we remark the strength and solidity of the 
lower extremities, in contrast with the superior. Not only are the 
lower limbs longer and larger than those of any other animal, but 
the pelvis is wider, and the obliquity of the neck of the thigh-bone 
greater. The distances of the larger processes on the upper ends 
of the thigh-bones (the trochanters,) from the sockets are also 
greater than in any of the vertebrata. Altogether the strength of 
these bones, the size and prominence of their processes, the great 
mass of the muscles of the loins and hips, distinguish man from every 
other animal ; they secure to him the upright posture, and give him 
the perfect freedom of the arms, for purposes of ingenuity and art. 

The Chimpanzee* is an ape which stands high in the order of 
quadrumana, yet we cannot mistake his capacities: that the lower 
extremities and pelvis, or hips, were never intended to give him the 
erect posture, or only for a moment ; but, for swinging, or for a 
vigorous pull, who can deny him power in those long and sinewy 
arms. 

The full prominent shoulders, and the consequent squareness of 
the trunk, are equally distinctive of man, with the strength of his 
loins ; they indicate a free motion of the hand. 

OF THE BONES OF THE SHOULDER. 

The bones of the shoulder, being those which give firm attach- 
ment to the upper extremity, and which afford origins to the 
muscles of the arm and fore arm, are simple, if studied in man, 
or, indeed, in any one genus of animals ; but considered in reference 

* Simia troglodytes, from the coast of Guinea, more human in its form, and more 
easily domesticated than the ourang-outang. We would do well to consider the 
abode of these creatures in a state of nature — vast forests extending- in impene- 
trable shade below, whilst above, and exposed to the light, there is a scene of ver- 
dure and beauty ; this is the home of those monkeys and lemurs which have ex- 
tremities like hands. In many of them the hinder extremity has the more perfect 
resemblance to a hand ; in the Goaita we see the great toe assuming the characters 
of a thumb, whilst in the fore paw, the thumb is not distinguishable, being hid in the 
skin. In short, these paws are not approximations to the hand, corresponding with 
a higher ingenuity, but are adaptations of the feet to the hranches on which the 
animals climb.. 



OF THE SHOULDER. 



33 



to the whole of the vertebral animals, they assume a very extraor- 
dinary degree of intricacy. We shall, however, find that they re- 
tain their proper office, notwithstanding the strange variations in the 
form of the neighbouring parts. In man they are directly connected 
with the great apparatus of respiration; but in other animals we 
shall see the ribs, as it were, withdrawn from them, and the bones oi 
the shoulder, or fundamental bones of the extremity, curiously and 
mechanically adapted to perform their office, without the support of 
the thorax. We shall not, however, anticipate the difficulties of 
this subject, but look first upon that which is most familiar and 
easy, the shoulder of man in comparison with the varieties in the 
mammalia. 

The clavicle, or collar bone, is that which runs across from the 
breast bone to the top of the shoulder. The square form of the 
chest, and the free exercise of the hand, are very much owing to 
this bone. It keeps the shoulders apart from the chest, and thr<»v. - 
the action of the muscles upon the arm bone, which, but for it, 
would be drawn inwards, and contract the upper part of the trunk. 




If we take the motions of the anterior extremity in different ani- 
mals, as our guide, we shall see why this bone is perfect in some, 
and 'entirely wanting in others. Animals which fly, or dig. or 
climb, as bats, moles, porcupines, squirrels, ant-eaters, armadillues, 
and sloths, have this bone, for in them, a lateral or outward motion 
is required. There is also a certain degree of freedom in the .in- 
terior extremity of the cat, dog, martin, and bear; they strike with 
the paw, and rotate the wrist more or less extensively, and they 
have therefore a clavicle, though an imperfect one. In some of 
these, even in the lion, the bone which has the place of the clavicle 
is very imperfect indeed; and if attached to the shoulder, it d< ea 
not extend to the sternum ; it is concealed in the flesh, and is like 

a triangular portion of the Sternum. i». «• Clavicles, c. c. Scapulee. D. C< - 
racoid process of the Scapula, k, Acromion process of the Scapulae. 



COMPARATIVE ANATCMY. 



the mere rudiments of the bone. But, however imperfect, it marks 
a correspondence in the bones of the shoulder to those of the arm 
and paw, and the extent of motion enjoyed. 

When the bear stands up, we perceive, by his ungainly attitude 
and the motion of his paws, that there must be a wide difference 
in the bones of his upper extremity, from those of the ruminant or 
solipede. He can take the keeper's hat from his head, and hold it ; 
he can hug an animal to death. The ant-bear especially, as he is 
deficient in teeth, possesses extraordinary powers of hugging with 
his great paws ; and, although harmless in disposition, he can squeeze 
his enemy, the jaguar, to death. These actions, and the power of 
climbing, result from the structure of the shoulder, or from possessing 
a collar bone, however imperfect. 

Although the clavicle is perfect in man, thereby corresponding 
with the extent and freedom of the motion of his hand, it is 
strongest and longest, comparatively, in the animals which dig or 
fly, as in the mole and the bat. 

Preposterous as the forms of the kangaroo appear to us, yet even 
in this animal we see a relation preserved between the extremi- 
ties. He sits upon his strong hind legs and tail, tripod like, with 
perfect security, and his fore paws are free. He has a clavicle, 
and possessing that bone and the corresponding motions, is not 
without means of defence ; for with the anterior extremities he 
seizes the most powerful dog, and then drawing up his hinder 
feet, he digs his sharp pointed hoofs into his enemy, and striking 
out, tears him to pieces. Though possessed of no great speed, and 
without horns, teeth, or claws, and, as we should suppose, totally 
defenceless, nature has not been negligent of his protection.* 

* There is in the form of the kangaroo, and especially in its skeleton, something 
incongruous, and in contrast with the usual shape of quadrupeds. The head, trunk, 
and fore paws, appear, to be a portion of an animal, unnaturally joined to another of 
greater dimensions and strength. It is not easy to say what are, or what were, the 
exterior relations corresponding with the very peculiar form of this animal; but the 
Interior anatomy is accommodated, in a most remarkable manner, to the enormous 
hinder extremities. 

The uterine system of the female is diminutive, and does not undergo the de- 
velopement, which- universally takes place in other animals. The young, instead 
of remaining within the mother for the period of gestation, become, by some ex- 
traordinary mode of expulsion, attached to the teats ; where they hang by the 
mouth, covered by an exterior pouch, until, from minute and shapeless things, they 
are matured to the degree in which the young of other animals are usually pro- 
duced. The artery which supplies the milk glands, is the epigastric, a branch of 
the great artery of the thigh; and in this curious manner is the provision for the 
young drawn from the great limbs of the mother, — certainly the part best enabled 
to supply it. 

I think I perceive the reason of this very peculiar manner of bringing forth the 
young, to be in the form of the animal and its upright position. The argument would 
stand thus, were we here at liberty to discuss it i 1. An upright position of the 
mother requires a pelvis of a peculiar and complex construction. 2. A pelvis, of 
this construction, requires that the form of the offspring shall accurately correspond, 
and that the anterior part of the foetus shall much exceed in size the posterior parts. 



OF THE SHOULDER. 



35 



It cannot be better shown, that the function or use of a part 
determines its form, than by looking to the clavicle and scapula of 
the bird. 

Three bones converge here, to the shoulder joint, the furculum, 
clavicle, and scapula; but none of these have the resemblance 
which their names would imply. The scapula is the long thin 
bone, like the blade of a knife; and the clavicle is that stronger por- 
tion of bone which is articulated with the breast bone: this leaves 
the furculum as a new part. Now I think, that the furculum, or 
fork bone, which in carving, we detach, after removing the wings 
of a fowl, corresponds with the form and place of the clavicle; 
and if we so consider it, we may then take the strong bone, com- 
monly called the clavicle, as a process of the irregularly formed 
scapula. However this may be, what we have to admire in birds, 
is the mode in which the bones are fashioned, to strengthen the ar- 
ticulation of the shoulder, and to give extent of surface for the 
attachment of muscles. 

Another peculiarity in birds is, that there is not an alternate 
motion of the wings; their extremities, as we may continue to call 
them, move together in flying; and, therefore, 'the clavicles are 
joined, forming the furculum. 



OF THE SCAPULA. 

If we attend to the scapula, or shoulder-blade, we shall better 
understand the influence of the bones of the shoulder, on the motions 
and speed of animals. The scapula is that flat triangular bone, 
which, lying on the ribs, and cushioned with muscles, shifts and 
revolves with each movement of the arm. The muscles converge 
from all sides towards it, from the head, spine, ribs, and breast 
bone. These acting in succession, roll the scapula and toss the 
arm, in every direction. When the muscles combine in action, 
they fix the bone, and either raise the ribs in drawing breath, or give 
firmness to the whole frame of the trunk. 

Before I remark further on the influence of the scapula? on the 
motions of the arm, I shall give an instance in proof of a very im- 
portant function which they perform. Hearing that there was a 
lad of fourteen years of age, born without arms, I sent for him. 
I found that indeed he had no arms, but he had clavicles and 



3. But the kangaroo is, in shape, the very reverse, — the head could not, co] 
ently with the conformation of the whole animal, be larger than the hips and hinder 
extremities. 4. Nature has accomplished her work safely, and by the rimpleit 
means, by anticipating the period of the separation of the foetus, and providing 
for the growth of the offspring-, exterior to the circle of hones through which Iti 
birth must take place. It will, perhaps be objected to this reasoning, that the <>rd< r 
didelphis (with a double womb) embraces animals which have no such remarkable 
disproportion in the hinder extremities. 



ANATOMY OF THE 



scapulae. When I made this boy draw his breath, the shoulders 
were raised, that is to say, the scapulae were drawn up, were fixed, 
and became the points from which the broad muscles of the chest 
diverged towards the ribs, to draw and expand them in respiration. 
We would do well to remember this double office of the scapula 
and its muscles, that whilst it is the very foundation of the bones of 
the upper extremity, and never wanting in any animal that has the 
most remote resemblance to an arm, it is the centre and point 
d'appui of the muscles of respiration, and acts in that capacity, 
where there are no extremities at all ! 

We perceive, that it is only in certain classes of animals, that 
the scapula is joined to the trunk by bone, that is, through the medium 
of a clavicle ; and a slight depression on a process of the scapula, 
when discovered in a fossil state, will declare to the geologist, the 
class to which the animal belonged. For example, there are brought 
over to this country the bones of the Megatherium, an animal, 
which must have been as large as the elephant ; of the anterior ex- 
tremity there is only the scapula ; and on the extremity of the 
process, which is called acromion, of that bone, there is a mark 
of the attachment of a clavicle. This points out the whole con- 
stitution of the extremity, and that it enjoyed perfect freedom of 
motion. Other circumstances will declare whether that extensive 
motion was bestowed, so that the animal might dig with its huge 
claws like some of the edentata, or strike like the feline tribe. 

Some interest is attached to the position of the scapula, in the 
horse. In him, and in other quadrupeds, with the exceptions which 
I have made, there is no clavicle, and the connexion between the 
extremity and the trunk, is solely through muscles. That muscle, 
called serratus magnus, which is a large one in man, is particularly 
powerful in the horse; for the weight of the trunk hangs upon this 
muscle. In the horse, as in most quadrupeds, the speed results 
from the strength of the loins and hinder extremities, for it is the 
muscles there which propel the animal. But were the anterior ex- 
tremities joined to the trunk firmly, and by bone, they could not 
withstand the shock from the descent of the whole weight thrown 
forwards; even though they were as powerful as the posterior 
extremities, they would suffer fracture or dislocation. We cannot 
but admire, therefore, the provision in all quadrupeds whose speed 
is great, and whose spring is extensive, that, from the structure of 
their bones, they have an elastic resistance, by which the shock of 
descending is diminished. 

If we observe the bones of" the anterior extremity of the horse, 
we shall see that the scapula is oblique to the chest ; the humerus, 
oblique to the scapula; and the bones of the fore-arm at an angle 
with the humerus. Were these bones connected together in a 
straight line, end to end, the shock of alighting would be con- 
veyed through a solid column, and the bones of the foot, or the 
joints, would suffer from the concussion. When the rider is thrown 



horse's shoulder. 



forwards on his hands, and more certainly when he is pitched on his 
shoulder, the collar bone is broken, because in man, this bone 
forms a link of connexion between the shoulder and the trunk. <<> 
as to receive the whole shock; and the same would happen in the 
horse, the stag, and all quadrupeds of great strength and swiftness 
were not the scapulae sustained by muscles, and not by bone, and 
did not the bones recoil and fold up. 

The horse-jockey runs his hand down the horse's neck, in a 
knowing way, and says, "this horse has got a heavy shoulder, he 
is a slow horse !" He is right, but he does not understand the 
matter ; it is not possible that the shoulder can be too much loaded 
with muscle, for muscle is the source of motion, and bestows power. 
What the jockey feels, and forms his judgment on, is the abrupt 
transition from the neck to the shoulder, which, in a horse for the 
turf, ought to be a smooth undulating surface. This abruptness, or 
prominence of the shoulder, is a consequence of the upright | 
tion of the scapula; the sloping and light shoulder results from it^ 
obliquity. An upright shoulder is the mark of a stumbling horse : 
it does not revolve easily, to throw forward the foot. 

Much of the strength, if not the freedom and rapidity of motion, 
of a limb, will depend on the angle at which the bones lie to each 




a. Scapula, e. Humerus. B. Tuberosity of the Humerus, c. 
projection of the Ulna. d. Radius. 



38 



COMPARISON OF THE BONES 



other; for, this mainly affects the insertion, and, consequently, the 
power of the muscles. We know, and may every moment feel, that 
when the arm is extended, we possess little power in bending it ; 
but as we bend it the power is increased ; which is owing to the 
change in the direction of the force acting upon the bone ; or, in 
other words, because the tendon becomes more perpendicular to 
the lever. A scapula which inclines obliquely backwards, increases 
the angle at which it lies with the humerus, and, consequently, im- 
proves the effect of those muscles which pass from it to the humerus. 
We have only to turn to the skeleton of the elephant, the ox, the elk, 
or the stag, to see the confirmation of this principle. When the 
scapula is oblique, the serratus muscle, which passes from the ribs 
to its uppermost part, has more power in rolling it. When it lies 
at right angles with the humerus, the muscles which are attached 
to the latter, (at B.) act with more effect. And on the same prin- 
ciple, by the oblique position of the humerus, and, consequently, its 
obliquity in reference to the radius and ulna, the power of the muscle 
inserted (at C.) into the olecranon, is increased. On the whole, 
both power and elasticity are gained by this position of the superior 
bones of the fore-leg. It gives to the animal that springs, a larger 
stretch in throwing himself forwards, and security, in a soft de- 
scent of his weight. A man, standing upright, cannot leap or start 
off at once ; he must first sink down, and bring the bones of his 
extremities to an angle. But the antelope, or other timid animals of 
the class, can leap at once, or start off in their course without pre- 
paration : another advantage of the oblique position of their bones 
when at rest. 

The leg of the elephant is obviously built for the purpose of sus- 
taining the huge bulk of the animal, whilst in the camel we have a 
perfect contrast. 

Were we to compare the bones of these larger animals with any 
form of architecture, we might say, it was the Egyptian, or rather 
like the Cyclopean walls of some ancient city ; they are huge and 
shapeless, and piled over each other, as if they were destined more 
to sustain the weight, than to permit motion. 

We further perceive, from the comparison of these sketches, that 
if the humerus be placed obliquely, it must necessarily be short, 
otherwise it would throw the leg too far back, and make the head 
and neck project. It is one of the " points" of a horse to have the 
humerus short. And not only have all animals of speed this cha- 
racter, but birds of long flight, as the swallow, have short humeri. 
This is owing, I think, to another circumstance, that in the wing, 
the short humerus causes a quicker extension ; for the further ex- 
tremity of the bone moving in a lesser circle, makes the gyration be 
more rapid. 

If we take the bones of the shoulder as a distinct subject, and 
trace them comparatively, we shall be led to notice some very cu- 
rious modifications in them. We have already seen that there are 



OF THE ELEPHAXT AXD CAMEL. 



39 



two objects to be attained in the construction of these bones, hi 
man, and mammalia, they constitute an important part of the organ 
of respiration ; and they conform to the structure of the thorax. 
But we shall find that in some animals, this function is in a manner 
withdrawn from them; the scapulae and the clavicles are left with- 
out the support of the ribs.— These bones forming the shoulder, 
therefore, require additional carpentry; or they must be laid too- 
ther on a new principle. In the batrachian order, for example in 
the frog, the thorax, as constituted of ribs, has disappeared ; the 
mechanism of respiration is altogether different from what it is in 
the mammalia. Accordingly, we find that the bones of the shoulder 
are on a new model; they form a broad and flat circle, sufficient to 
give secure attachment to the extremity, and affording a large space 
for the lodgment of the muscles which move the arm. — Perhaps the 
best example of this structure is in the siren and proteus ; where the 
ribs are reduced to a few imperfect processes, attached to the ante- 
rior dorsal vertebrae ; and where the bones of the extremity, being 
deprived of all support from the thorax, depend upon themselves for 
security. Here the bones, corresponding to the sternum, clavicles, 
and scapulae, are found clinging to the spine, and forming, like the 
pelvis, a circle, to the lateral part of which the humerus is articu- 
lated. 

In the chelonian order, the tortoises, we see another design ac- 
complished, in the union of these bones ; and the change is owing 
to a very curious circumstance. The spine and ribs of these ani- 
mals form the rafters of their strong shell ; and consequently they 
are external to the bones of the shoulder. The scapulae and clavi- 
cles being thus within the thorax, and having nothing in their grasp, 
neither ribs nor spine, they must necessarily fall together, and form 




40 



COMPARATIVE ANATOMY 



a circle, in order to afford a fixed point to which the extremity may 
be attached. It would, indeed, be strange if, now being joined for 
the purpose of giving attachment to the humerus, and in circum- 
stances, as we may express it, so very new, they preserved any re- 
semblance to the forms which we have been contemplating in the 
higher animals. In the figure on the preceding page, we have the 
bones of the shoulder of the turtle ; and it is readily perceived how 
much they have changed both their shape and their offices. That 
part which is most like a scapula in shape, lies on the fore part, in- 
stead of the back part ; and the bones which hold the shoulders 
apart, abut upon the spine, instead of upon the sternum. Hence it 
appears idle to follow out these bones under the old denominations, 
or such as are applicable to their condition in the higher animals. 

In fishes, where the apparatus of respiration has undergone ano- 
ther entire change, and where there are no proper ribs, the bones 
which give attachment to the pectoral fin, are still called the bones 
of the shoulder ; and that which is named scapular appendage, is, in 
fact, attached to the bones of the head. So that the whole consists 
of a circle of bones, which, we may say, seek security of attach- 
ment by approaching the more solid part of the head, in defect of a 
firm foundation in the thorax. 

Thus, the bones which, in a manner, give a foundation to those'^of 
the anterior extremity, have been submitted to a new modelling, in 
correspondence with every variety in the apparatus of respiration ; 
and they have yet maintained their pristine office. 

The naturalist will not be surprised, on finding an extraordinary 
intricacy in the shoulder apparat us of the ornithorynchus paradoxus, 
since the whole frame and organs of this animal imply, that it is in- 
termediate between mammalia and birds ; and it is placed in the 




a. Clavicle, b. Coracoid bo>>e. c. A new bone, introduced into the apparatus, 
which articulates with the coracoid bone, and lies interior to the clavicle, r. 
Scapula, e. Acromion Scapulae. 



OF THE BOXES OF THE SHOULDER. 



11 



list of edentata. We introduce it here, as another instance of the 
changes which the bones of the shoulder undergo with every new 
office, and in correspondence with the motions, of the extremity; 
whether it be to support the weight in running, or to give freed 
to the arm, or to provide for flying, or for performing equally the 
act of creeping and of swimming. 

Unprofitable as the inquiry may seem, there is no other way by 
which the geologist can distinguish the genera of those oviparous 
reptiles, which he finds imbedded in the secondary strata, than by 
studying the minute processes and varying characters of these 
bones, in the different classes of animals. . In the ichthyosaurus, and 
plesiosaurus, the inhabitants of a former world, and now extinct, 
we perceive a considerable deviation from the perfection of the 
bones of the arm and hand, compared with the frog and tortoise : 
but if strength is the object, there is a greater degree of perfe 
in the bones of the shoulder. The explanation of this is, that the 
ribs and sterno-costal arches, constituting the thorax are more per- 
fect, than in the chelonian and batrachian orders; and the bones of 
the shoulder are therefore external, and resemble those of the croco- 
dile; yet the ribs are so weak as to be incapable of sustaining die 
powerful action of the anterior extremities ; accordingly, the bones, 
which by a kind of license we continue to call clavicle, omoplate or 
scapula, and coracoid, though strangely deviating from the original 
form and connections, constitute a texture of considerable strength, 
which perfects the anterior part of the trunk, and gives attachment 
and lodgment to the powerful muscles of the paddle. 

But in giving their attention to this subject, it does not appear 
that naturalists have hit upon the right explanation of the peculiar 
structure, and curious varieties of these bones. Why is the appa- 
ratus of respiration so totally changed in these classes of animals ' 

They are cold-blooded animals ; they require to respire less fre- 
quently than other creatures, and they remain long under water. 1 
conceive that the peculiarity in their mode of respiration corre- 
sponds with this property. Hence their vesicular lungs, their mode 
of swallowing the air, instead of inhaling it; and hence, especially, 
their power of compressing the body and expelling the air; it is 
this, I imagine, which enables them to go under the water and 
crawl upon the bottom ; without this, that is to say, had they pos- 
sessed the lungs of warm-blooded animals, which are compressible 
only in a slight degree, their capacity of remaining under water 
would have left them struggling against their buoyancy, like a man 
or any of the mammalia when diving. The girdle of bones oi the 
shoulder is constituted with a certain regard to the peculiar action 
of respiration, and to the pliancy of the body, in order that the 
vesicular lungs may be compressed, and the specific weight di- 
minished. The facility which the absence of ribs gives, in ihe ha- 
trachian order, and the extreme weakness and pliancy oj these 

5 



42 



OF THE HUMERUS. 



bones in the saurians, for admitting the compression of the lungs ex- 
tended through the abdomen, must be, as I apprehend, peculiarities 
adapted to the same end. 

OF THE HUMERUS. 

The demonstration of this bone need not be so dry a matter of 
detail as the anatomist makes it. We may see in it that curious 
relation of parts which has been so successfully employed by Paley 
to prove design, and from which the genius of Baron Cuvier has 
brought out some of the finest examples of inductive reasoning. 

In looking to the head of this bone in the human skeleton, (see 
the fig. page 31,) we observe the great hemispherical surface for 
articulation with the glenoid cavity of the scapula, and we see that 
the two tubercles, near the joint, are depressed, and do not interfere 
with the revolving of the humerus, by striking against the scapula. 

Such appearances alone are sufficient to show that all the motions 
of the arm are free. To give assurance of this, suppose that the ge- 
ologist has picked up this bone in interesting circumstances. To 
what animal does it belong 1 The circular form of the articulating 
surface, and the very slight projection of the tubercles, evince a lati- 
tude and extent of motion. Now, freedom of motion in the shoulder, 
implies freedom also in the extremity or paw, and rotation of the 
bones of the wrist. Accordingly, we direct the eye to that part 
of this humerus which gives origin to the muscles for turning the 
wrist, (the Supinator muscles), and in the prominence and length of 
the ridge or crest which is on the lower and outer side of the bone, 
we have proofs of the free motion of the paw. 

Therefore, on finding the humerus thus characterised, we con- 
clude, that it belonged to an animal with sharp moveable claws ; 
that, in all probability, it is the remains of a bear. 

But, suppose that the bone found has a different character : — That 
the tubercles project, so as to limit the motion to one direction, and 
that the articulating surface is less regularly convex. On inspect- 
ing the lower extremity of such a bone, we shall perceive provisions 
for a deeper and more secure hinge-joint at the elbow ; and neither 
in the form of the articulating surface, (which is here called tro- 
chlea), nor in the spine on the outside, above noticed, will there be 
signs of the rotation of the fore-arm on the other. We have, there- 
fore, got the bone of an herbivorous quadruped, either with a solid 
or with a cloven foot. 

In the bat and mole we have, perhaps, the best examples of the 
moulding of the bones of the extremity, to correspond with the con- 
dition of the animal. The mole is an animal fitted to plough its 
way under ground. In the bat, the same system of bones is adapted 
to form a wing, to raise the animal in the atmosphere ; and with a 
provision to cling to the wall, not to bear upon. We recognize in 



OF THE MOLE AXD THE BAT. 



43 



both, every bene of the upper extremity, but how very differently 
formed and joined ! In the mole, the sternum or breast bone, and 
the clavicle are remarkably large : the scapula assumes the form of 
a high lever: the humerus is thick and short, and has such spines for 
the attachment of muscles, as indicate great power. The spines, 
which give origin to the muscles of rotation, project in an extraor- 
dinary manner ; and the hand is large, flat, and so turned, that it 
may shove the earth aside like a ploughshare. - 




There can be no greater contrast to these bones than is presented 
in the skeleton of the bat. In that animal the bones are light and 




* The shout may vary in its internal structure with new offices BMonUati 



to 



44 



ANT-EATER. 



delicate ; and whilst they are all marvellously extended, the pha- 
langes of the fingers are elongated, so as hardly to be recognized, 
obviously for the purpose of sustaining a membranous web, and 
to form a wing. 

Contemplating this extraordinary application of the bones of the 
extremity, and comparing them with those in the wing of a bird, 
w r e might say, that this is an awkward attempt — a failure. But be- 
fore giving expression to such an opinion, we must understand the 
objects required in this construction. It is not a wing intended 
merely for flight, but one which, while it raises the animal, is capa- 
ble of receiving a new sensation, or sensations in that exquisite de- 
gree, so as almost to constitute a new sense. On the fine web of 
the bat's wing, nerves are distributed, which enable it to avoid ob- 
jects in its flight, during the obscurity of night, when both eyes and 
ears fail. Could the wing of a bird, covered with feathers, do this ? 
Here then we have another example of the necessity of taking 
every circumstance into consideration before we presume to criticise 
the ways of nature. It is a lesson of humility.* 

In the next page we have a sketch of the arm-bones of the Ant- 
eateiy|- to show once more the correspondence in the whole ex- 
tremity. We observe these extraordinary spines of the humerus 
marking the power of the muscles which are attached to it; for as 
I have said before, whether we examine the human body, or the 
comparative forms of the bones, the distinctness of the spines and 
processes declares the strength of the muscles. It is particularly 
pleasing to notice here the correspondence between the humerus 
and the other bones, the scapula large and with a double spine, and 
with great processes : the ulna projecting at the olecranon, and the 
radius freely rotating: but above all, in the developement of one 
grand metacarpal bone, which gives attachment to a strong claw, 
we see a very distinct provision for scratching and turning aside 
the ant-hill. The whole is an example of the relation of the parti- 
cular parts of the skeleton to one another ; and were it our business, 
it would be easy to show, that as there is a correspondence among 
the bones of the arm, so is there a more universal relation between 
those of the whole skeleton. As the structure of the bones declares 
the provision of the extremity for digging into the ant-hills, so we 

which their hands are assisting-, in throwing* aside the earth. The conformation 
of the head in shape and strength of bones, and the new adjustment of a muscle, 
which is cutaneous in other animals (the Platisma Myoides) to the motions of the 
head, are among" the most curious changes of common parts to new offices. 

* Besides the adaptation of the bat for flight, through a new adjustment of the 
bones of the arm, this animal has cells under its skin; but I know not how far I 
am authorized to say that they are analogous to the air-cells of birds, or that they 
are for the purpose of making the bat specifically lighter, They extend over the 
breast, and under the axillae in some bats; and they are filled by an orifice which 
communicates with the pharynx. 

•j- Tamandua, from South America. 



STRUCTURE OF BIRDS. 



shall not be disappointed in our expectation of finding a projecting 
muzzle unarmed with teeth, and a long tongue provided with a glu- 
tinous secretion, to lick up the emmets which are disturbed by the 
animal's scratching. 




In the skeleton of the cape-mole, we may see, from the projecting 
acromion scapula?, and a remarkable process of the humerus, that 
there is a provision for the rotation of the arm, which implies bur- 
rowing. But the apparatus seems by no means so perfect as in the 
mole, implying that it digs in a softer soil than that animal, whilst 
the possession of gnawing teeth indicates that it lives on roots. 

In Birds there is altogether a new condition of parts, as then is 
a new element to contend with. The very peculiar form and struc- 
ture of their skeleton may be thus accounted for. First, it is ne- 
cessary that birds, as they are buoyed in the air, be specifically 
lighter. Secondly, the circumference of their thorax must he ex- 
tended, and the motions of their ribs limited, that the muscles of the 

5* 



46 



STRUCTURE ADAPTED 



wings may have sufficient space and firmness for their attachment. 
Both these objects are attained by a modification of the apparatus 
of breathing. The lungs are highly vascular and spongy, but they 
are not distended with air. The air is drawn through their sub- 
stance into the large cavity common to the chest and abdomen ; 
and whilst thfe great office of decarbonization of the blood is securely 
performed, advantage is taken to let the air into all the cavities, 
even into those of the bones. From what was said in the introduc- 
tory chapter, of the weight of the body being a necessary concomi- 
tant of muscular strength, we see why birds, by reason of their 
lightness, as well as by the conformation of their skeleton, walk 
badly. And, on the other hand, in observing how this lightness is 
adapted for flight, it is remarkable how small an addition to their 
body will prevent them rising on the wing. If the griffon-vulture 
be frightened after his repast, he must disgorge, before he flies; and 
the condor, in the same circumstances, is taken by the Indians, like a 
quadruped, by throwing the lasso over it. # 

As every one must have observed, the breast-bone of birds ex- 
tends the whole length of the body; and owing to this extension, a 
lesser degree of motion suffices to respiration. So that a greater 
surface, necessary for the lodgement and attachment of the muscles 
of the wings, is obtained, whilst that surface is less disturbed by the 
action of breathing, and is more steady. Another peculiarity of the 
skeleton of the bird is the consolidation of the vertebrae of the back ; 
a proof, if any were now necessary, that the whole system of bones 
conforms to that of the extremities, the firmer texture of the bones 
of the trunk, being a part of the provision for the attachment of the 
muscles of the wings.f 

The vertebras of the back being fixed in birds, and the pelvis 
reaching high, there is no motion in the body ; indeed, if there were, it 
would be interrupted by the sternum. We cannot but admire, there- 
fore, the composition of the neck and head, and how the extension 
of the vertebrae, and the length and pliability of the neck, whilst they 
give to the bill the office of a hand, become a substitution for the loss 
of motion in the body, by balancing the whole, as in standing, run- 
ning, or flying. Is it not curious to observe how the whole skeleton 
is adapted to this one object, the power of the wings ? 

Whilst the ostrich has no keel in its breast-bone, birds of passage 
are, on dissection, recognisable by the depth of this ridge of the 
sternum. The reason is that the angle, formed by this process and 

* It is interesting" to notice the relations of great functions in the animal econo- 
my. Birds are oviparous, because they never could have risen on the wing- had they 
been viviparous ; if the full stomach of a carnivorous bird retard its flight, we per- 
ceive that it could not have carried its young. The light body, the quill-feathers, 
the bill, and the laying of eggs, are all necessarily connected. 

f The ostrich and cassowary, which are rather runners than fliers, have the 
spine loose. 



FOR FLYING. 



17 



the body of the bone, affords lodgement fur the pectoral muscle, the 
powerful muscle of the wing. In this sketch of the dissection of the 
swallow, there is a curious resemblance to the human arm, and we 
cannot fail to observe, that the pectoral muscle constitutes the great- 
er part of the bulk of the body* And here we see the correspon- 
dence between the strength of this muscle and the rate of flying of 
the swallow, which is a mile in a minute, for ten hours every day, 
or six hundred miles a day.f If it be true that birds, when migrat- 
ing, require a wind that blows against them, it implies an extraordi- 
nary powder, as well as continuance of muscular exertion. 

We see how Nature completes her work, when the intention is 
that the animal shall rise buoyant and powerful in the air: — the 
whole texture of the frame is altered and made light, in a manner 
consistent with strength. We see also how the mechanism of the 
anterior extremity is changed, and the muscles of the trunk differently 
directed. But we are tempted to examine those means, which we 
would almost say are more awkwardly suited for their purpose, 
where the system of bones and muscles, peculiar to the quadruped, 
is preserved, while a power of launching into the air is also given. 
We have already noticed the structure of the bat as adapted to 
flight; but there are other animals which enjoy this function in a 
lesser degree. For example, the flying squirrel (Petromys Volucel- 
la,) being chased to the end of the bough, spreads out its mantle from 
one extremity to the other, and drops in the air ; but with such a re- 
sistance from its extended skin and its tail, that it can direct its flight 
obliquely downwards, and even turn in the air. But to this end, 
there is no necessity for any adaptation of the anterior extremity. 
Among reptiles there is a provision of the same kind, in the Draco 
fimbriatus; which is capable of creeping to a height, and dropping 
safely to the ground, under the protection of a sort of parachute, 
formed by its extended skin. This is not an inapt illustration, for al- 
though the phalanges of the fingers are not here used to extend the 
web, the ribs, which are unnecessary for breathing, are prolonged 
like the whalebone of an umbrella, and on them the skin is expanded. 

But this brings us to a very curious subject, — the condition of 
those Saurian reptiles, the remains of which are found only in a u><- 
sil state, in what are termed the ancient strata of the Jura. The 
Pterodactyle of Cuvier is an animal which seems to confound all our 
notions of system. Its mouth was like the long bill of a bird, and its 
flexible neck corresponded ; but it had teeth in its jaws like those of 
a crocodile. It had the bones of the anterior extremity prolonged, 

* Borelli makes the pectoral muscles of a bird, exceed in weiplit :ill the Other 
muscles taken together; whilst the pectoral muscles of man, are but a seventieth 
part of the whole mass of the muscles. 

t Mr. White says truly, that the swift lives on the wing- ; it cats, drinks, and col. 
lects materials for its nest in flying, and never rests but during; darknet* 



48 



ANATOMY OF 



and fashioned somewhat like those in the wing of a bird ; but it could 
not have had feathers, as it had not a proper bill. We see no crea- 
ture having feathers without a bill to dress and prim them. Nor did 
this extremity resemble the structure in that of a bat : instead of the 
phalanges being equally prolonged, the second only was extended to 
an extraordinary length, whilst the third, fourth, and fifth remained 
with the length and articulation of a quadruped, and with sharp nails, 
corresponding with the pointed teeth. The extended metacarpal 
bone reached double the whole length of the animal, and the conjec- 
ture is, that upon it was extended a membrane, resembling that of 
the Draco fimbriatus. In the imperfect specimens which we have, 
we cannot discover in the height of the pelvis, the strength of the ver- 
tebrae of the back, or the expansion of the sternum, a provision for 
the attachment of muscles commensurate with the extent of the sup- 
posed wing. The humerus, and the bones, which we presume are 
the scapula and coracoid, bear some correspondence to the extent 
of the wing; but the extraordinary circumstance of all, is the size 
and strength of the bones of the jaw and vertebrae of the neck, com- 
pared with the smallness of the body, and the extreme delicacy of 
the ribs ; which make it, altogether, the thing most incomprehensi- 
ble in nature. 



OF THE RADIUS AND ULNA. 

The easy motion of the hand, we might imagine to be in the hand 
itself; but, on the contrary, the movements which appear to belong 
to it, are divided among all the bones of the extremity.* 

The head of the humerus is rotatory on the scapula, as when mak- 
ing the guards in fencing ; but the easier and finer rolling of the 
wrist is accomplished by the motion of the radius on the ulna. 

The ulna has a hooked process, the olecranon, which catches 
round the lower end of the humerus or arm-bone, (this articulating 
portion is called trochlea), and forms with it a hinge-joint. The ra- 
dius, again, has a small, neat, round head, which is bound to the ulna 
by ligaments, as a spindle is held in the bush. This bone turns on its 
axis and, as it turns, carries the hand with it, because the hand is 
strictly attached to its lower head alone. This rolling, is what is 
termed pronation and supination. 

Such a motion w r ould be useless, and a source of weakness in an 
animal that had a solid hoof. Accordingly, in the horse, these bones 
are united together and consolidated in the position of pronation. 

It is interesting to find that by studying the processes of the bones, 

* In the sketch in the next page, the upper bone of the fore-arm is the radius, 
and in revolving- on the lower bone, the ulna, it carries the hand with it. 



THE FORE-ARM. If) 

than which nothing, at first sight, appears more inconsequent, we 
are learning the characters of a language which shall enable us to 
read monuments of the highest interest ;— the records of the crea- 
tion, which give an account of the revolutions of the earth itself. 




If a geologist should find the nearer head of the radius, and see in 
the extremity of it a smooth depression, where it bears against the 
humerus, and observe the polished circle that turns on the cavity of 
the ulna, — he would say, — This animal had a paw — it had a motion 
at the wrist, which implies claws. Claws may belong to two spe- 
cies of animals; the feline, which is possessed of sharp carnivorous 
teeth, or to animals without teeth. If he should find the lower ex- 
tremity of this same bone, and observe on it spines and grooves for 
the distinct tendons which disperse to the phalanges, he would C< n- 
clude that there must have been moveable claws — thai it belonged 
to a carnivorous animal; and he would seek for canine teeth I l B 
corresponding size. 



50 



ANATOMY OF 



OF THE WRIST AND HAND. 

In the human hand, the bones of the wrist (carpus) are eight in 
number ; and they are so closely connected that they form a sort of 
ball, which moves on the end of the radius. Beyond these, and to- 
wards the fingers are the metacarpal bones, which diverge at their 
further extremities, and give support to the bones of the fingers. 
The thumb has no metacarpal bone, and is directly articulated with 
the carpus or wrist. There are thus in the hand twenty-nine bones, 
from the mechanism of which, result strength, mobility, and elasticity. 

Lovers of system (I do not use the term disparagingly) delight to 
trace the gradual subtraction of the bones of the hand. Thus, look- 
ing to the hand of man, they see the thumb fully formed — in the simise 
they find it exceedingly small ; in one of them, the spider-monkey, 
it has disappeared, and the four fingers are sufficient, with hardly 
the rudiments of a thumb. In some of the tardigrade animals, there 
are only three metacarpal bones with their fingers. In the horse, 
the cannon bone may be shown to consist of two metacarpal bones. 
Indeed, we might go further and instance the wing of the bird. To 
me, this appears to be losing the sense, in the love of system. There 
is no regular gradation, but a variety, most curiously adapting, as I 
have often to repeat, the same system of parts to every necessary 
purpose. 

In a comparative view of these bones, we are led more particu- 
larly to notice the foot of the horse ; it is universally admitted to be 
of a beautiful design, and calculated for strength and elasticity, and 
especially provided against concussion. 

The bones of the fore-leg of the horse become firmer as we trace 
them downwards. The two bones corresponding with those of the 
fore-arm, are braced together and consolidated ; and the motion at 
the elbow joint is limited to flexion and extension. The carpus, form- 
ing what by a sort of licence is called the knee, is also new model- 
led ; but the metacarpal bones and phalanges of the toes are totally 
changed, and can hardly be recognized. When we look in front, 
instead of the four metacarpal bones, we see one strong bone, the 
cannon bone, and posterior to this, we find two lesser bones, called 
splint bones. The heads of these lesser bones enter into the knee- 
joint ; but at their lower ends they diminish gradually, and they are 
held by an elastic ligamentous attachment to the sides of the cannon 
bone. 

I have some hesitation in admitting the correctness of the opinion 
of veterinary surgeons of this curious piece of mechanism. They 
imagine that these moveable splint bones, by playing up and down, 
as the foot is alternately raised and pressed to the ground, bestow 
elasticity and prevent concussion. — The fact certainly is, that by 
over-action this part becomes inflamed, and the extremities are pre- 



THE WRIST AND HAND. 



51 



ternaturally joined by bone to the greater metacarpal or cannon 
bone; and that this, which is called a splint, is a cause of lameness. 

I suspect, rather, that in the perfect state of the joint, these lesser 
metacarpal bones act as a spring to throw out the foot, when it is 
raised and the knee-joint bent. If we admit that it is the quickness 
in the extension of this joint on which the rate of motion must prin- 
cipally depend, it will not escape observation, that in the bent posi- 
tion of the knee, the extensor tendons have very little power, o\\ r ing 




to their running so near the centre of motion in the joint; and that, 
in fact, they require some additional means to aid the extension ol 

the leg. . . 

Suppose that the head of the lesser metacarpal bone a enters into 
the composition of the joint, it does not appear that by its yielding, 
when the foot is upon the ground, the bones of the carpus ran de- 
scend, as long as they are sustained by the greater metacar^or 
cannon bone. I do not, therefore, conceive that this bone can add 
to the elasticity of the foot. But when we perceive that the head <>t 
.1 i:^* 1 . ;« K^ind thp r.nntre of motion in the loint. it is oh 



the splint bone is behind the centre of motion in the joint, it i 
vious ; that it must be more pressed upon, in the bent eond.tmn n 
joint when the foot is elevated, and that then, the bone must d< 



scend. If it be depressed when the foot is raised, and have a powe 
of recoiling (which it certainly has) it must aid in throwing out the 
leg into the straight position and assist the extensor muscles. 1 Iff- 



52 



OF THE HORSE'S FOOT. 



ther, we can readily believe that when the elasticity of these splint 
bones is lost, by ossification uniting them firmly to the cannon bone, 
the want of such a piece of mechanism, essential to the quick exten- 
sion of the foot, will make the horse apt to come down. 

In looking to this sketch, and comparing it with that of the hand 
on page 49, we see that in the horse's leg the five bones of the first 
digital phalanx are consolidated into the large pastern bone ; those 
of the second phalanx, into the lesser pastern or coronet ; and those 
of the last phalanx, into the coffin bone. 

Of the horse's foot. — But the foot itself deserves our attention. 
The horse, a native of extensive plains and steppes, is perfect in his 
structure, as adapted to these, his natural pasture grounds. When 
brought, however, into subjection, and running on our hard roads, 
his feet suffer from concussion. The value of the horse, so often im- 
paired by lameness of the foot, has made that part an object of great 
interest : and I have it from the excellent professor of veterinary 
surgery to say, that he has never demonstrated the anatomy of the 
horse's foot without finding something new to admire. 

The weight and power of the animal require that he should have 
a foot in which strength and elasticity are combined. The elasticity 
is essentially necessary to prevent percussion in striking the ground ; 
and it is attained here, through the united effect of the oblique posi- 
tion of the bones of the leg and foot — the yielding nature of the sus- 
pending ligament, and the expansibility of the crust or hoof. So 
much depends on the position of the pastern bones and coffin bone, 
that judging by the length of these and their obliquity, it is possible 
to say whether a horse goes easily, without mounting it. When the 
hoof is raised, it is smaller in its diameter, and the sole is concave ; 
but when it bears on the ground it expands, the sole descends so as 
to become flatter ; and this expansion of the hoof laterally, is neces- 
sary to the play of the whole structure of the foot. Hence it hap- 
pens that if the shoe be nailed in such a manner as to prevent the 
hoof expanding, the whole interior contrivance for mobility and 
elasticity is lost. The foot, in trotting, comes down solid, it conse- 
quently suffers percussion ; and from the injury, it becomes inflamed 
and hot. From this inflammation is generated a variety of diseases, 
which at length destroy all the beautiful provision of the horse's foot 
for free and elastic motion. 

This subject is of such general interest, that I may venture on a 
little more detail. The elastic or suspending ligament spoken of 
above, passes down from the back of the cannon bone, along all the 
bones, to the lowest, the coffin bone ; it yields, and allows these 
bones to bend. Behind the ligament the great tendons run, and the 
most prolonged of these, that of the perforans muscle, is principally 
inserted into the coffin bone, having at the same time other attach- 
ments. Under the bones and tendon, at the sole of the foot, there is 
a soft elastic cushion ; this cushion rests on the proper horny frog, 



FOOT OF RUMIXANTS. 

that prominence of a triangular shape which is seen in the hollow 
of the sole. The soft elastic matter being pressed down, shifts a lit- 
tle backwards, so that it expands the heels at the same time that it 
bears on the frog, and presses out the lateral part of the crust We 
perceive that there is a necessity for the bottom of the hoof being 
hollow or concave— first, to prevent the delicate apparatus of the 
foot from being bruised, and, secondly, that elasticity may I'-; ob- 
tained by its descent. We see that the expansion of the hoof, and 
the descent of the sole are necessary to the play of the internal appa- 
ratus of the foot. 

That there is a relation between the internal structure and the 
covering, whether it be the nail, or crust, or hoof, we can hardly 
doubt: and an unexpected proof of this offers itself in the horse. 
There are some very rare instances of a horse having digital extre- 
mities. According to Suetonius, there was such an animal in the 
stables of Caesar; another was in the possession of Leo X. : and 
Geoffrey St. Hilaire, in addition to those, says, that he has seen a 
horse with three toes on the fore-foot, and four on the hind- 1 
These instances of deviation in the natural structure of the bones 
were accompanied with a corresponding change in the coverings — 
the toes had nails, not hoofs. 

By these examples, it is made to appear still more distinctly that 
there is a relation between the internal configuration of the toes and 
their coverings — that when there are five toes complete in their 
bones, they are provided with perfect nails — when two toes repre- 
sent the whole, as in the cleft foot of the ruminant, there are appro- 
priate horny coverings — and that when the bones are joined to form 
the pastern bones and coffin bone, there is a hoof or crust, as in the 
horse, couagga, zebra, and ass. 

In ruminants there is a cannon bone, but the foot is split into two 
parts, and this must add to its spring or elasticity. I am incline ! to 
think that there is still another intention in this form ; it prevents the 
foot sinking in soft ground, and permits it to be more easily with- 
drawn. We may observe how much more easily the cow with- 
draws her foot from the yielding margin of a river, than the horse. 
The round and concave form of the horse's foot is attended with a 
vacuum or suction, as it is withdrawn; while the split and conical 
shaped hoof expands in sinking, and is easily extricated. 

In the chamois and other species of the deer there is an additional 
toe. A sort of lesser cannon bone, with its two pasterns, supports 
this toe, and is joined by ligament to the larger cannon bone, so that 
it must have great elasticity. As a division of the flexor tendon runs 
into it, it must increase the spring when the animal rises from its 
crouching position. We see, in these sketches, that the lesser meta- 

* Such a horse was not long since exhibited in Town and at Newmarket 





54 



ELEPHANT AND CAMEL. 



carpal bone, which, in the horse, entered into the joint of the " knee," 
is here brought down to increase the elasticity, or to expand the 
foot. 

The two lateral toes of the hog are short, and do not touch the 
ground, yet they must serve to sustain the animal when the foot 
sinks. In the rein-deer these bones are strong and deep, and the toe, 
by projecting backwards, extends the foot horizontally — thus giving 
the animal a broader base to stand on, and adapting it to the snows 
of Lapland, on the principle of the snow-shoe. The systematic na- 
turalist will call these changes in the size, number, and place of the 
metacarpal bones " gradations ;" I see in them only new proofs of 
the same system of bones being applicable to every circumstance, 
or condition of animals, and furnishing us with other instances of 
adaptation. 

I have explained why I think that the bones of the elephant's leg 
stand so perpendicularly over each other; there is a peculiarity also 
in the bones of the foot. In the foot of the living animal we see 
only a round pliant mass, which, when he stands, resembles the base 
of a pillar, or the lower part of the trunk of a stately tree. But 
when we examine the bones of the foot, we find this broad base to 
consist of the carpus, metacarpus, and phalanges of the toes ; and 
these bones have a very different use from what we have hitherto 
noticed. They are not connected with a moveable radius, and have 
no individual motion, as in the carnivorous animal — they merely 
serve to expand the foot, the base of the column, and to give it a 
certain elasticity. 

In page 39 I have noticed the bones of the foot of the camel in 
contrast with those of the elephant. The camel's foot having no 
such disproportioned weight to bear as in the elephant, lightness of 
motion is secured by the oblique position of its bones, as well as by 
the direction of the bones of the shoulder, which we have formerly 
noticed. In the soft texture of the camel's foot there is much to 
admire ; for although the bottom be flat, like the sole of a shoe, yet 
there is between it and the bones and tendons a cushion, so soft and 
elastic that the animal treads w T ith great lightness and security. 
The resemblance of the foot of the ostrich to that of the camel has 
not escaped naturalists. 

We are now treating of the last bones of the toes ; and let us 
see what may be done, by the study of one of these bones, to the 
bodying forth of the whole animal. I allude to the dissertations of 
President Jefferson and Baron Cuvier on the Megalonix. But 
we must preface this part of our subject by some remarks on the 
form of the claws of the lion. 

The canine tribe are carnivorous, like the feline, and both have 
the last bones of their toes armed with a nail or claw. But their 
habits and their means of obtaining food are different. The first 



THE LION'S CLAW. 



combine a keen sense of smelling with a power of continued speed : 
they run down their prey. The feline order have their superiority 
in the fineness of their sight, accompanied with a patience, watch- 
fulness, and stealthy movement ; they spring upon their prey, and 
never long pursue it. They attain their object in a few bounds, 
and, failing, sulkily resume* their watch. When we look to the 
claws, we see a correspondence with those habits. The claws of 
the dog and wolf are coarse and strong, and bear the pressure and 
friction incident to a long chase. They are calculated to sustain 
and protect the foot. But the tiger leaps on his prey, and fastens 
his sharp and crooked claws in the flesh. These claws being curved 
and sharp, we must admire the mechanism by which they are pre- 
served. The last bone, that which supports the claw, is placed 
lateral to the penultimate bone, and is so articulated with it, that an 
elastic ligament (a) draws it back and raises the sharp extremity of 
the claw upwards. The nearer extremity of the furthest bone 
presses the ground in the ordinary running of the animal,- whilst 




* The pads in the bottom of the lion's foot cover these bones, or father, jre 
should say, protect them ; they are soft cushions, which add to the elast.c.ty o the 
foot and must, in some degree, defend the animal in alightmg from . bound 
could not comprehend how the powerful flexor muscles dul not onsheath the cU*t 
when the lion made its spring, and how they produced tins crtee when ! - ; 
an excitement to seize and hold the prey-I made tins dissect on to h u t 
cause. The last bone of the toe is placed in a manner so pecul.a. in reta b to 
the penultimate, being drawn back by the elastic ligament (a) bevond 



nearer 



the penultimate, uemg urawn u»»,«. UJ « B - v , - , 

of motion of the joint, that the flexor tendon (») actmg upon ,t, Jbrce . th 
end, and the cushion of the toe to the ground. But when a mo.e g< k .« I cxciic 
ment takes place in the muscles called interossei, and the extensor., n, Uh 



56 



ON THE JMEGALONIX. 



the claw is thus retracted into a sheath. But when the tiger makes 
his spring, the claws are uncased by the action of the flexor ten- 
dons ; and they are so sharp and strong in the Bengal tiger, and his 
arm is so powerful, that they have been known to fragture a man's 
skull by a touch, in the act of leaping over him. 

1 have alluded to the observation of President Jefferson on the 
Megalonix. Having found a bone, which by its articulating surface 
and general form, he recognised to be one of the bones of the pha- 
lanx of an animal of great size, he thought he could discover that 
it had carried a claw ; and from this circumstance, he naturally 
enough concluded (according to the adage — ex ungue leonem) that 
it must have belonged to a carnivorous animal. He next set about 
calculating the length of this claw, and estimating the size of the 
animal. He satisfied himself that in this bone, a relic of the an- 
cient world, he had obtained a proof of the existence, during these 
old times, of a lion of the height of the largest ox, and an opponent 
fit to cope with the mastodon. But when this bone came under the 
scrutiny of Baron Cuvier, his perfect knowledge of anatomy ena- 
bled him to draw a different conclusion. 

He first observed that there was a spine in the middle of the 
articulating surface of the last bone, which in this respect was un- 
like the form of the same bone in the feline tribe. He found no pro- 
vision in this specimen of an extinct animal, for the lateral attach- 
ment of the bone, which we have just noticed to be necessary for 
its retraction. Then observing what portion of a circle this bone 
formed, he prolonged the line, and showed that the claw belonging 
to it must have been of such great length, that it could never have 
been retracted to the effect of guarding an acute and sharp point. 
The point, therefore, could not have been raised vertically, so as to 
have permitted the animal to put the foot to the ground without 
blunting the instrument ! Pursuing such a comparison, he rejected 
the idea of the bone belonging to the feline tribe at all. His atten- 
tion was directed to another order, the paresseux or sloths, which 
have great toes and long nails. Their nails are folded up in a dif- 
ferent fashion ; they just enable the animal to walk; but slowly and 
awkwardly, something in the same manner as if we were to fold 
our fingers on the palm of the hand, and bear upon our knuckles. 
On instituting a more just comparison between these bones of the 
ancient animal, and the corresponding bones of the paresseux, he 
has satisfied us, that the lion of the American President was an 
animal which scratched the ground and fed on roots. 

One experiences something like relief to find that there never 

tive position of the two last bones is altered ; so that the action of the flexor ten- 
don can now draw forward the last bone — thus unsheathing and uncovering the 
claw, and preparing it to hold or to tear. 



FOOT OF THE QUADRUMANA. f,7 

was such 1 an enormous carnivorous animal as this, denominated 
megalonix. 

These finger-bones, or bones of the claws, exhibit a very remark- 
able correspondence with the habits and general forms of animals. 
Besides what we have seen in the lion, or tiger, in the dog, and 
wolf, in the bear and ant-eater, there is a variety, where we should 
least expect it, in the animals that live in woods, and climb the 
branches of trees. The squirrel, with claws set both w ays, runs 
with equal facility up and down the bole, and nestles in the angles 
of the branches. The monkey leaps and swings himself from branch 
to branch, and springing, parts with his hold by the hinder extremi- 
ties before he reaches with the anterior extremities ; he leaps the in- 
tervening space, and catches with singular precision. lint the Blotha 
do not grasp; their fingers are like hooks, and their strength is in 
their arms'. They do not hold, but hang to the branch. They 
never let go with one se't of hooks, until they have caught with the 
other, and thus they use both hind and fore feet, whilst their \» 
are pendant. Here, once more, we see the form of the extremity, 
the concentration of strength, and the habit of animals, conforming 
not merely to their haunts in the forest, but to their mode of moving 
and living among the branches; all active, but in a different man- 
ner. 

There have been of late deposited in our Museum in the College 
of Surgeons, the bones of an animal of great size; and the exami- 
nation of these gives us an opportunity of applying the principles 
and the mode of investigation followed by our great authority in 
this part of science. 

These remains consist of part of the head, spine, tail, pelvis, and 
the bones of one hinder extremity, and the scapula. Estimating tin- 
animal at seven feet in height, it scarcely conveys an adequate idea 
of its size ; for the thigh-bone is three times the diameter oi that oi 
the large elephant which is in the same collection, and the pelvis is 
twice the breadth of that of the same animal. Forming our opinion 
on these principles to which we have had repeated occasion to refer 
in this essav, and judging by the strength and prominence oi the 
processes of these bones, the animal must have possessed great mus- 
cular power; and directed by the same circumstances still, we can 
form an idea of the manner in which that muscular power was em- 
ployed, -ill r 

On comparing these bones with the drawings ol the skeleton o 
the enormous animal preserved in the Royal Museum oi Madrid, I 
is seen at once that this new acquisition is part of the remains - I 
the crreat animal of Paraguay, the Megatherium ol ( uviur. hveix 
observation which we arc enabled to make on the extreme b.mes 
the foot, on the scapula, and on the teeth, confirms the idea ente • 
tained by Cuvier, that it was a vegetable feeder; and that its great 
strength was employed in flinging up the soil and digging lor m<^. 

6* 



58 



AMPHIBIA. 



Its strength seems to have been concentrated to its paws, corre- 
sponding with the provisions there for enormous nails or claws. I 
have heard it surmised that this animal may have sat upon its hinder 
extremities, and pulled down the branches of trees to feed upon. 
It is only its great size that can countenance such an idea. We 
have not the humerus, which by its processes would have declared 
the classification and activity of its muscles; but we can estimate 
the height, breadth, and strength of the animal by the pelvis and 
enormous bones of the posterior extremity ; while by the scapula 
and clavicle we can form a conception of the extent of motion of 
the anterior extremity, and the great power that it possessed. In 
short, by the osseous and muscular systems we perceive that the 
strength was not so much in the body, certainly not in the jaws, but 
was directed rather to the extremities ; and that it was given neither 
for rapidity of motion nor defence, but for digging. 

How little was it to be expected that an alliance between ana- 
tomy, the most despised part of it, and mineralogy, was to give 
rise to a new science ; — making a part of natural history which 
had been pursued in mere idleness, vaguely, and somewhat fanci- 
fully, to be henceforth studied philosophically, and by inductive 
reasoning. It is both interesting and instructive to find the relations 
thus established between departments of knowledge apparently so 
remote. 

In the true Amphibia, as the phoca and walrus, we have the feet 
contracted, and almost enveloped in the skin, and the fingers webbed 
and converted into fins. 



BOXES IN THE CETACEA. 



.V.I 



We have sketched here, the bones of the morse, or walrus, and 
they are remarkably complete, if we consider the appearance of 
the feet in the living animal. The bones are here accommodated 
to an instrument for swimming ; for these animals live in the water, 
and come to land only to suckle their young, or to bask in the sun ; 
and they are the most unwieldy and helpless, out of the water, of the 
all animals/wbich breathe. 

In the Cetacea, we have mammalia without hind feet. The 
scapula is large, the humerus very short, and the bones of the 
fore-arm and hand flattened and confined in membranes which 
convert them into a fin. They live in the water, but must rise 
to breathe. 

I need not say that in the dolphin we recognise the bones of the 
anterior extremity, only a little further removed from the forms 
which we have hitherto been contemplating. The seal and morse 
raise themselves out of the water and lie on the rocks; the differ- 
ent species of the dolphin continue always in the water ; the ex- 
tremity is now a fin or an oar, and those who have seen the por- 
poise or the pelloch in a stormy sea, must acknowledge how- 
complete the apparatus is, through which they enjoy their element 

The last examples I select, shall be from the ancient world.* 



rij 




60 



PECULIARITIES IN THE HAND. 



These figures are taken from specimens in the College of Sur- 
geons, of fossil animals of singular structure, between the crocodile 
and the fish. They are in a calcareous rock, and the skeletons are 
entire, but crushed, and a good deal disfigured. Here are the 
extremities or paddles consisting of a multitude of bones articulated; 
and among these we still discover the humerus, radius and ulna, 
and bones of the carpus and fingers. No fault is to be found with 
the construction of these instruments ; they are suited to their offi- 
ces, and no bone is superfluous, or misplaced, or imperfect. The 
ichthyosaurus and plesiosaurus (the animals which offer these speci- 
mens) inhabited the sea ; the remains are found low in the lias de- 
posite ; great changes have been wrought on the land and on the 
deep since they existed ; and the race of animals, the structure of 
whose extremities we have been engaged in examining, were 
not then in being. When we discover the same series of bones in 
the animals of the old world, we admit the existence of the same 
system ; and we must necessarily acknowledge the progressive 
developement of that system, through a period of time incalcula- 
bly remote; even if, instead of our days and years, referable to 
history, each day were as a thousand years, or we were to make 
our estimate by the records of the revolutions which have left their 
traces on the globe itself. 

I have now given, I hope, sufficient examples of the changes in 
the bones of the anterior extremity, which suit them to every possible 
variety of use. After a little attention to the form of the human 
hand, I shall take up another division of my subject. 

The motions of the fingers do not merely result from the action 
of the large muscles which lie on the fore-arm — these are for the 
more powerful actions; but in the palm of the hand, and between 
the metacarpal bones, there are small muscles (Lumbricales and In- 
terossei), which perform the finer motions, expanding the fingers and 
moving them in every direction, with great quickness and deli- 
cacy. These are the organs which give the hand the power of 
spinning, weaving, engraving; and as they produce the quick 
motions of the musician's fingers, they are called by the anatomist 
fidicinales. Attention to our most common actions will show us, 
how the division into fingers, by combining motion with the sense 
of touch, adapts the hand to grasp, to feel, and to compare. We 

from the foot of land animals to the fin of the fish. — The walrus, dolphin, turtle, 
plesiosaurus, ichthyosaurus — where we no longer find the phalanges or attempt to 
count the bones. They become irregular polygons or trapezoids — less like the 
phalanges than the radii of the fins of a fish. In fishes the anterior extremity is re- 
cognised in the thoracic fin; and we may even discover the prototypes of the 
scapula and the bones of the arm. I know not what the naturalist, who likes to 
note the gradual decrease of the elementary parts, makes of these hundred bones 
of the paddie or of the fin ; where there is an increase of the number, whilst, rela- 
tively speaking, there is a defect of form and motion, of the parts. 



PECULIARITIES IX THE HA.VD. ( ;1 

shall presently see how well the points of the fingers are provided 
for feeling: as the joints and numerous muscles of the hand arc 
adapted tor various, distinct, or separate motions 

In this sketch we have the bones of the paw of the adult Chim- 
panzee from Borneo; and the remarkable peculiarity is the small 
ness of the thumb ; it extends no further than to the root of the 
fingers. On the length, strength, free lateral motion, and perfect 
mobility of the thumb, depends the power of the human hand * The 
thumb is called pollex, because of its strength ; and that strength is 



necessary to the power of the hand, being equal to that of all the 
fingers. Without the fleshy ball of the thumb, the power of the 
fingers would avail nothing; and, accordingly, the large ball, 
formed by the muscles of the thumb, is the distinguishing character 
of the human hand, and especially of that of an expert workman.! 

In a French book, intended to teach young people philosophy, 
the pupil asks why the fingers are not of equal length I The form 
of the argument reminds us of the difficulty of "putting natural 
questions — the fault of books of dialogue. However, the master 
makes the scholar grasp a ball of ivory, to show him that the 
points of the fingers are then equal ! It would have been better 
had he closed the fingers upon the palm, and then have asked 
whether or not they corresponded. This difference in the length 
of the fingers serves a thousand purposes, adapting the hand and 
fingers, as in holding a rod, a switch, a sword, a hammer, a pen, 
or pencil, engraving tool, &c, in all which, a secure hold and 
freedom of motion are admirably combined. Nothing is more re- 
markable, as forming a part of the prospective design to prepare 
an instrument fitted for the various uses of the human hand, than the 
manner in which the delicate and moving apparatus of the palm 
and fingers is guarded. The power with which the hand grasps, 
as when a sailor lays hold to raise his body in the rigging, would 
be too great for the texture of mere tendons, nerves, and vesse - 1 
they would be crushed, were not every .part that hears the pressure, 
defended with a cushion of fat, as elastic as that which we have 
described in the foot of the horse and the camel. To add to 
this purely passive defence, there is a muscle which runs across 
the palm and more especially supports the cushion on its ini er 

* The monkey has no separate flexor htlgUS of the thumb. Vicq. d AtfTi 
t " Manus parva, majori adjutrix" Albinus. 



62 



OF THE MUSCLES OF 



edge. It is this muscle which, raising the edge of the palm, adapts 
it to lave water, forming the cup of Diogenes. 

In conclusion, — what says Ray, — " Some animals have horns, 
some have hoofs, some teeth, some talons, some claws, some spurs 
and beaks ; man hath none of all these, but is weak and feeble, and 
sent unarmed into the world — Why, a hand, with reason to use it, 
supplies the use of all these." 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF THE MUSCLES. 

The muscle of the body is that fleshy part, with which every one 
is familiar. It consists of fibres which lie parallel to each other. 
This fibrous, or filamentous part, has a living endowment, a power 
of contraction and relaxation, termed irritability. A single muscle 
is formed of some millions of these fibres combined together, having 
the same point of attachment or origin, and concentrating in a rope 
or tendon, which is fixed to a moveable part, called its insertion. 
We may demonstrate upwards of fifty muscles of the arm and hand, 
all of which must consent to the simplest action ; but this gives an 
imperfect view of the extent of the relation of parts which is neces- 
sary to every act of volition. We are most sensible of this combi- 
nation in the muscles, when inflammation has seized any of the great 
joints of the body ; for even when in bed every motion of an extre- 
mity gives pain, through the necessity of a corresponding movement 
in the trunk. When we stand, we cannot raise or extend the arm 
without a new position of the body, and a poising of it, through the 
action of a hundred muscles. 

ON THE ACTION OF THE MUSCLES OF THE ARM. 

We shall consider this subject under two heads ; in the first, we 
shall give examples of the living property of the muscles ; and then 
of the mechanical contrivances, in their form and application. In 
all that regards the muscles, we see the most bountiful supply of 
power commensurate to the object, but never anything in the least 
degree superabundant. If ihe limb is to be moved by bringing a 
muscle, or a set of muscles into action, the power is not given in 
that excess which would enable them to overcome their opponents ; 
but the property of action is withdrawn from the opponents ; they 
become relaxed, and the muscles, which are in a state of contrac- 
tion, perform their office with comparative ease. A stationary con- 



THE ARM AN D BAND. 



63 



dition of the limb results from a balanced but regulated action of all 
the muscles; which condition may be called their tone. If, in an 
experiment, a weight be attached to the tendon of an extensor mus- 
cle, it will draw out that muscle to a certain degree, until its tone or 
permanent state resists the weight: but if the flexor muscle be now 
excited, this being the natural opponent of the extensor, the weight 
will fall, by the relaxation of the extensor. So that the motion of a 
limb implies an active state or a change in both classes of muscles, 
the one to contract, the other to relax ; and the will influences both 
classes. Were it not so regulated, instead of the natural, easy, and 
elegant motions of the frame, the attempt at action would exhibit 
the body convulsed, or, as the physicians term it, in clonic spasms. 
The similitude of the two sawyers, mentioned by Paley, gives but 
an imperfect idea of the adjustment of the two classes of muscles. 
When two men are sawing a log of wood, they pull alternately, and 
when the one is pulling, the other resigns all exertion. But this is 
not the condition of the muscles — the relaxing muscle has not given 
up all effort, like a loose rope, but it is controlled in its yielding, with 
as fine a sense of adjustment, as is the action of the contracting 
muscles. Nothing appears to us more simple than raising the arm, 
or pointing with the finger; yet in that single act, not only are in- 
numerable muscles put into activity, but as many are thrown out of 
action, and the condition of these classes is totally opposite to each 
other, under the same act of volition. 

By such considerations, we are prepared to admire the faculty 
which shall combine a hundred muscles so as to produce a change 
of posture or action of the body; and we now perceive that the 
power taken from one class of our muscles, may be considered as 
if it w T ere bestowed on the other; so that the property of life, which 
we call the irritability, or action of a muscle, is upon the whole, less 
exhausted than would be the case on any other supposition. 

As to the second head, our demonstration is of an easier kind. 
We have said that nature bestows abundantly, but not superfluously; 
a truth evinced in the arrangement of the muscles. All the muscles 
of the limbs have their fibres running in an oblique direction— -thus, 
a. being the tendinous origin of a muscle, and b. the tendinous inser- 
tion, the fleshy fibres run obliquely between these two tendons. 




The fibre acting thus obliquely loses power, but gams the property 
of pulling what is attached to its further extremity through a greater 
space, while it contracts. This mechanical arrangement is intern- 



64 



OF THE MUSCLES OF 



gible on the law, that velocity of motion through space, is equal to 
power or weight. Here in the muscle, there is a resignation of 
power to obtain velocity of motion. 

The same effect is produced by the manner in which the tendons 
of the muscles run over the joints. They would act more power- 
fully, if they went in a straight line to the toes or tips of the fingers: 
but by being laced down in sheaths, they move the toes and fingers 
with a velocity proportioned to their loss of power. Let us see how 
far this corresponds with other mechanical contrivances. A certain 
power of wind or water being obtained, the machinery is moved ; 
but it is desired to give a blow, with a velocity far greater than the 
mo ion of the water or the turning of the wheels. For this purpose 
a fly-wheel is put on, the spokes of which maybe considered as long 
levers. The wheel moves very slowly, at first, but being once irf 
motion, each impulse accelerates it with more and more facility ; at 
length, it acquires a rapidity, and a centrifugal force which nothing 
can equal in its effects, but the explosion of gunpowder. The me- 
chanist not having calculated the power of the accelerated motion 
in a heavy wheel, has seen his machinery split and burst up, and 
the walls of the house blown out as by the bursting of a bomb-shell. 
A body at rest receives an impulse from another, which puts it into 
motion — it receives a second blow ; now, this second blow has much 
greater effect than the first — for the power of the first was exhaust- 
ed in changing the body from a state of rest to that of motion — but 
being in motion when it receives the second blow, the whole power 
is bestowed on the acceleration of its motion ; and so on, by the 
third and fourth blows, until the body moves with a velocity, equal 
to that of the body from which the impulse is originally given. The 
slight blow given to a boy's hoop is sufficient to keep it running; 
and just so the fly-wheel of a machine is kept in rapid action by a 
succession of impulses, each of which would hardly put it in motion. 
If we attempt to stop the wheel, it will give a blow in which a hun- 
dred lesser impulses are combined and multiplied. 

There is, in the machinery of the animal body, in a lesser degree, 
the same interchange of velocity and force. When a man strikes 
with a hammer, the muscle near the shoulder,* c. acts upon the hu- 
merus, b. in raising the extended lever of the arm and hammer, with 
every possible disadvantage ; seeing that it is inserted or attached 
so near the centre of motion in the shoulder joint. 

* a. The scapula, or shoulder blade : b. the humerus, or arm-bone ; c. the deltoid 
muscle of the shoulder, arising 1 from the shoulder-blade and clavicle, and inserted 
into the arm-bone; d. a muscle which draws the arm down, as in striking" with a 
sword or hammer. 



THE ARM AND HAND. 



65 




But the loss of power is restored in another form. What the 
muscle d. loses by the mode of its insertion, is made up in the velo- 
city communicated to the hammer; for in descending through a 
large space, it accumulates velocity, and velocity is equal to force. 
— The advantage of the rapid descent of a heavy body is, that a 
smart blow is given, and an effect produced which the combined 
power of all the muscles, without this mechanical distribution of 
force, could not accomplish. This is, in truth, similar to the opera- 
tion of the fly-wheel, by which the gradual motion of an engine is 
accumulated in a point of time, and a blow is struck capable of 
crushing or of stamping a piece of gold or silver. In what respect 
does the mechanism of the arm differ from the engine with which 
the printer throws off his sheet? Here is a lever with a heavy hall 
at the end ; in proportion to its weight, it is difficult to be put in mo- 
tion. The printer, therefore, takes hold of the lever near the ball, 
at A. Were he to continue pulling at that part of the lever, he 
would give to the ball no more velocity than that of his hand : but 
having put the ball in motion, he slips his hand down the lever to 
b. He could not have moved the weight, had he applied Ins hand 




here at first; but it being now in motion, the whole strength m Ins 
arm is «-iven to the lever at b., whilst the velocity of the Lfrcat u - i rlu 
at the further end is accelerated. Thus the weight and the veU-.ts 
beino- combined, the impulse given to the screw is much greata 



66 



MECHANICAL PROPERTIES 



than if he had continued to pull upon the further end of the lever 
at a. 

If we now turn our eye to the diagram (page 65,) we shall under- 
stand that the muscle c. raises the long lever of the arm at a disad- 
vantage, or very slowly ; but the arm being moved, that motion is 
rapidly increased by each successive impulse from the muscle; and, 
of course, the velocity of the further extremity is more rapid than 
at the insertion of the tendon. 

Again, if we consider the action of the muscle d. in pulling down 
the arm, as in giving a back stroke with the sword, we have the 
combination of two powers, — weight and muscular effort. When 
the hammer descends, the rapidity is increased by the mere effect 
of gravity; but when the action of the muscle is conjoined, the two 
forces, progressively increasing, greatly augment the velocity of the 
descent. 

The same interchange of power for velocity, which takes place 
in the arm, adapts a man's hand and fingers to a thousand arts, re- 
quiring quick or lively motions. The fingers of a lady, playing on 
the pianoforte, or the compositor with his types, are instances of the 
advantage gained by this sacrifice of force for velocity of move- 
ment. The spring of the foot and toe is bestowed in the same man- 
ner, and gives elasticity and rapidity in running, dancing, and leaping. 

After the many illustrations from mechanics which we have of- 
fered, the muscular power itself must be a subject of surprise and 
admiration. Gravity, the running of water, the expansion and con- 
densation of steam, the production of gases, the spring or elasticity 
of material, or all these combined, could not have answered the va- 
ried offices performed by this one property of life possessed by the 
muscles. The irritable and contractile fibre, matter which, chemi- 
cally considered, does not differ from the fibrine of the blood, being 
endowed with this property of contraction, and adapted with "me- 
chanical ingenuity," fulfils a thousand distinct purposes, in volition, 
breathing, speaking, in digestion, assimilation, circulation; and in all 
these it is modified to the wants and condition of every class of ani- 
mals. 

From what the reader already understands of the conformity 
which subsists among all the parts of an animal body, he will readily 
comprehend that there is a perfect relation between the bones and 
the muscles: that as the bones change, and exhibit a variety in their 
size, relative position, and articulations, so there is an adaptation of 
the muscles. We sometimes find them separated into smaller mus- 
cles, and sometimes consolidated into more powerful masses. 

The demonstration to the anatomical student of the muscles of the 
human hand and arm, becomes the test of his master's perfection 
as a teacher. Nothing is more uninteresting, tedious, and difficult 
to attend to, than the demonstration of the muscles of the arm, when 
they are taken successively, as they present themselves; but when 



OF THE MUSCLES OF THE ARM. 



67 



they are taught with lucid arrangement, according to the motions 
performed by them, it is positively agreeable to find how much in- 
terest may be given to the subject. 

It would be foreign to the object of this work to introduce such 
demonstrations here. 

Yet it is very remarkable that the muscles of the arm and hand 
should resemble so closely the muscles of the fore extremity of the 
lion, for example. The flexors, extensors, pronators, and supinators 
are, in the brute, exactly in the same place, and bear all the relations 
which the student of anatomy is taught to observe with so much in- 
terest in the human arm. This example is sufficient to show how 
accurately the comparative anatomy of the muscles conforms to 
that of the bones ; and that in proportion as the bones of the extremi- 
ty resemble in shape and power of motion those of the human arm. 
so do the muscles — another proof of the great extent of the system 
of relations established in the animal system. 

There is one circumstance more which should not be omitted in the 
comparative anatomy of these muscles, as it exhibits another instance 
of conformity in their structure, to the offices which they have to per- 
form. We have just stated that the power of contraction is a vital 
property. The continued action of a muscle, therefore, exhausts the 
vitality ; and to support that action, when it is inordinate, there must 
be a more than usual provision for the supply of this living power. 
v i z: — a means of increasing or perpetuating the circulation of the 
blood, which is the source of all vital power. 

In the lemur tardigradus it has been observed that the axillary and 
femoral arteries, the great arteries of the anterior and posterior ex- 
tremities, have this peculiarity — that the trunk is subdivided into a 
number of equal-sized cylinders, which again unite to form a single 
trunk previous to the distribution of its branches to the muscles.* It 
has been argued that this peculiarity, as it produces a retardation ot 
the blood, is adapted to a long continued action in the muscles. I 
believe it to be a provision for long continued action ; because the 
animals which possess it, are not more remarkable for the slowness 
of their progression thanforthe tenacity of their hold. The extremi- 
ties are long and the muscles powerful, either to sustain the animal 
by grasping the branches of trees, or for digging; but surely the 
strength of the muscles cannot be produced by retardation ol the 
circulation, on the principle, universally admitted, thai the expendi- 
ture of arterial blood is in proportion to the vital force employed. 

Were the arteries of the living body like rigid tubes, and the laws 
of the circulation the same as those of hydraulics, such might be the 
conclusion. But it is impossible to suppose that the circulation ol 
the blood could be performed according to the laws which gown 
the flow of water in dead tubes. The artery is dilatable, il contracts 
with a vital force; both the disability and the contractility ol arte- 



There is some doubt us to the reunion of the 



•Is. 



68 



SUPERIORITY OF THE RIGHT HAND. 



ries are subject to the influences of the living principle. When, 
therefore, the artery of a limb is divided into four or five vessels, the 
result is a greater capacity of dilatation, a greater power of con- 
traction ; and these being vital operations, are subject to be influ- 
enced and adjusted according to the necessity for the increase or 
diminution of the circulation. 

If such a peculiarity in the form of the vessels in the extremities 
of these animals, retards the blood, it can only be during repose ; 
for, on excitement, so far from retarding, it must bestow remarkable 
power of acceleration. I conclude, therefore, that this variety of 
distribution in the arteries is a provision for occasional great activity 
in the muscles of the limb, and for forcing the blood into contact 
with the fibres, notwithstanding their continued action and rigidity. 

We have seen in the preceding chapter the same organ, which 
moves at one time as slowly as the hand of a watch, at another 
moves with extreme rapidity; consequently, we cannot admit the in- 
ference that the tortuous and subdivided artery is a provision for lan- 
guid motions. 

In speaking of the arteries which go to the hand, it may be ex- 
pected that we should touch on a subject, which has been formerly 
a good deal discussed, whether the properties of the right hand, in 
comparison with those of the left, depend on the course of the arte- 
ries to it. It is affirmed that the trunk of the artery going to the 
right arm, passes oft* from the heart so as to admit the blood directly 
and more forcibly into the small vessels of the arm. This is assign- 
ing a cause which is unequal to the effect, and presenting, altogether, 
too confined a view of the subject; it is a participation in the com- 
mon error of seeking in the mechanism the cause of phenomena 
which have a deeper source. 

For the conveniences of life, and to make us promp and dexte- 
rous, it is pretty evident that there ought to be no hesitation which 
hand is to be used, or which foot is to be put forward ; nor is there, 
in fact, any such indecision. Is this taught, or have we this readi- 
ness given to us by nature? It must be observed, at the same time, 
that there is a distinction in the whole right side of the body, and that 
the left side is not only the weaker, in regard to muscular strength, 
but also in its vital or constitutional properties. The developement 
of the organs of action and motion is greatest upon the right side, as 
may at any time be ascertained by measurement, or the testimony 
of the tailor or shoemaker; certainly, this superiority may be said to 
result from the more frequent exertion of the right hand; but the pe- 
culiarity extends to the constitution also ; and disease attacks the left 
extremities more frequently than the right. In opera dancers, we 
may see that the most difficult feats are performed by the right foot. 
But their preparatory exercises better evince the natural weakness 
of the left limb, since these performers are made to give double prac- 
tice to it, in order to avoid awkwardness in the public exhibition ; 
for if these exercises be neglected, an ungraceful preference will be 



SUBSTITUTION OF OTHER ORGANS FOR THE HAND. 00 

given to the right side. In walking behind a person, it is very sel- 
dom that we see an equalized motion of the body ; and if we look to 
the left foot, we shall find that the tread is not so firm upon it, thai 
the toe is not so much turned out as in the right, and that a great - 
push is made with it. From the peculiar form of woman, and the 
elasticity of her step resulting more from the motion of the ankle 
than of the haunches, the defect of the left foot when it exists, is m< m 
apparent in her gait. No boy hops upon his left foot, unless he be 
left handed. The horseman puts the left foot in the stirrup and 
springs from the right. We think we may conclude, that every- 
thing being adapted in the conveniences of life to the right hand, as 
for example the direction of the worm of the screw or of the cutting 
end of the auger, is not arbitrary, but is related to a natural endow- 
ment of the body. He who is left handed is most sensible to the ad- 
vantages of this adaptation, from the opening of the parlour-door to 
the opening of a pen-knife. On the whole, the preference of the 
right hand is not the effect of habit, but is a natural provision, and is 
bestowed for a very obvious purpose : and the property does not de- 
pend on the peculiar distribution of the arteries of the arm — but the 
preference is given to the right foot, as well as to the right hand. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE SUBSTITUTION OF OTHER ORGANS FOR THE HAND. 

After having examined the manner in which one instrument, the 
hand, is modified and adapted to a variety of purposes in different 
animals, there remains only this mode of elucidation — that we con- 
trast it with its imperfect substitutes in other creatures. I might, in- 
deed, have shown in the insect tribes the most curious examples ol 
instruments for similar purposes with the hand and fingers ol man: 
but I have intentionally confined this inquiry to the higher classes i l 
animals. K c . 

The habits of some fishes require that they should cling firmU i 
the rocks or to whatever presents to them. Their locomotive po* - 
ers are perfect; but how are they to become stationary m the tide or 
the stream? I have often thought it wonderful that the salm< 
the trout, for example, should keep its place, night and day, in ithe 
rapid current. In the sea, there are some fishes especially proi 
with means of clinging to the rocks. The lump-fish. cyclopU rus turn- 
pus fastens itself by an apparatus which is on the lower pari Ol Its 
body. The sucking-fish, remora, has a similar provision on its hack. 
It attaches itself to the surface of the shark and to * hatever IS afloat; 

7* 



70 



SUBSTITUTES FOR THE HAND. 



and, of course, to the bottoms of ships. The ancients believed it ca- 
pable of stopping a ship under sail, and Pliny, therefore, called it re- 
mora. We must admire the means by which these fishes retain 
their proper position in the water, without clinging by their fins or 
teeth, and while they are free for such efforts as enable them* to 
seize their food. The apparatus by which they attach themselves 
resembles a boy's sucker : the organ being pressed against the sur- 
face to which the creature is to be fixed, the centre is drawn by mus- 
cles in the same manner that the sucker is drawn with the cord, and 
thus a vacuum is made. 

In the cuttle-fish we see a modification of this apparatus : the 
suckers are on the extremities of their processes or arms, and be- 
come instruments of prehension and of locomotion. They are ca- 
pable of turning in all directions, either to fix the animal or to drag 
it from place to place. In the Indian Seas, these creatures become 
truly terrific from the length of their arms, which extend to eight 
or nine fathoms, and from the firmness with which they cling. 

Dr. Shaw tells us, that on throwing a fish of the species cyclop- 
terus lumpus into a pail of water, it fixed itself so firmly to the bot- 
tom, that by taking hold of the tail, he lifted up the pail, although it 
contained some gallons of water. 

There is another fish, which from its name we should expect to 
perform strange antics ; it is called harlequin angler.f Its appear- 
ance is grotesque and singular; the pectoral fins resemble short 
arms, and are palmated at their tips. J M. Renau, in his history of 
fishes, affirms that he knew an individual of this species; and the ex- 
pression is not so incorrect, since he saw it for three days out of the 
water, walking about the house in the manner of a dog. The circum- 
stance of its walking out of the water has some interest, as showing' 
relations between organs which are apparently the least connected. 
The fact of this fish living out of the water is doubted ; but the form 
of its branchial organs inclines me to believe it; and its habits require 
such a provision. In this genus, the operculum does not open to let 
the respired water pass oft' freely behind, as in most fishes ; but the 
water is discharged by a small aperture which, in Mr. Owen's 
opinion, is capable of being closed by a sphincter. The cavities in 

* In the Mollusca and Zoophytes we find many instances of the animal holding on 
against the force of tide or current. The Actinije fix themselves to rocks and 
shells ; and some, as the sea carnation, hang suspended from the lower surface of 
projecting rocks, resembling the calyx of a flower. By the elongation of their 
tentacula, they expand and blow out "like a flower ; but instead of petals, these are 
prehensile instruments by which they draw whatever food floats near them into their 
stomachs. The Byssus of the muscle is a set of filaments which retains the shell at 
anehor and prevents it drifting- or rolling with the tide. These filaments are the 
secretion of a gland, and whilst they are fixed to the rock, the gland retains the 
hold at their other end-. The shell of the oyster is itself cemented to the rock. 

•f Lophius Histrio, from a Greek word that has reference to the process which 
floats from the head, like a streamer or pennant. 

t These fins have two bones in them like the radius and ulna; but Cuvier 
says, that they are more strictly bones of the carpus. 



SUBSTITUTES FOR THE HAM). 



: 1 



which the branchiae lie, are large, and this is, indeed, partlj the 
reason of the monstrous head of this fish. Thus, it has not only its 
fins converted into feet, but its gills into pouches, capable of contaii - 
ing water, and of permitting the function of the branchiate pr< ceed 
when the water is retired; that is, when it lies in mud, or sha 
pools; for m such situations does the lophius find its food, when 
angles for it in a very curious manner. 

But there are other fishes that move out of the water on dry land, 
ahd even ascend trees, without being carried there by floods. The 
perca scandens, by means of the spines of its gill-covers, and the 
spinous rays of its fins, climbs trees; so that Dr. Shaw calls it the 
climbing fish.* 

All creatures which have their skins protected, whether by fea- 
thers, or shells, or scales, have an exquisite touch in their mouth, 
or in the appendages which hang from it. Fishes have cirri which 
hang from their mouth, and these are equivalent to the palpa and 
tentacula of insects and Crustacea. The fishing lines of the lophusi 
piscatoriits are examples of these processes: and Pliny relates that 
this frog-like fish, hiding in the mud, leaves the extremities of these 
filaments visible; which, from their resemblance to worms, entice 
the smaller fishes, and they become the prey of their concealed ene- 
my. It is surprising how varied their means are by which fishes ob- 
tain their food. The chostodon (bandouliere a bee) squirts water at 
flies as they pass and brings them down. The scieena jaadatrix, 
according to Pallas, has a similar power; and the spams insidiator 
catches aquatic insects by the sudden projection of its snout. It is 
affirmed by some naturalists that the rays of the dorsal and anal 
fins, as in the cordonnier of Martinique, zeus ciliaris, le blepharis, 
Cuv., are employed to grapple or coil round the stems of plants and 
sustain the fish. 

The several offices attributed to these processes in fishes imply 
that they possess sensibility, if not muscular power. 

By anatomical investigation and experiment, I, some years ago, 
discovered that the sensibility of all the head and of its various ap- 
pendages resulted from one nerve only of the ten which are enu- 
merated as arising from the brain, and are distributed within and 
around the head; and, pursuing the subject by the aid of compara- 
tive anatomy, I found that a nerve corresponding to this, which is 
the fifth nerve in man, served a similar purpose in all the lower ani- 
mals. In creatures which are covered with feathers or scales, or 
protected by shell, this nerve becomes almost the sole organ ol sen- 
sibility. It is the developement of this nerve which gives sensibility 
to the cirri, which hang about the mouths of fishes, and to the palpa 
of the Crustacea and insects. It is the same nerve which supplies 
the tongue, and is the organ of its exquisite sensibility to touch, as 

* The spines of the Echinus are moveable; tlu-y assist in progression. Tlwj M >■ 
directed towards an advancing enemy! Although these sp.ne* may beeffec ualfoi 
their nurnose they are the lowest or least perfect substitutes for the Mtrem 



72 



THEORY OF 



well as of taste. In some animals, especially in the reptiles, the 
tongue, by its length and mobility, becomes a substitute for these 
external appendages. We might have noticed before, that the 
tongue is an organ of prehension as well as of touch. With it the ox 
gathers in the herbage ; and in the giraffe, it is rather curious to ob- 
serve that as the whole frame of the animal is calculated to raise 
the head to a great height, so is the tongue capable of projecting 
beyond the mouth to an extraordinary extent, to wrap round and 
pull down the extreme branches of trees. The whiskers of the 
feline quadrupeds possess a fine sensibility through branches of the 
fifth nerve, which enter their roots. Birds have a high degree of 
sensibility to touch in their mouths. In ducks, and all that quaffer 
with their bills under water, the sense is very fine, and we find, on 
dissection, that a branch of the fifth nerve, remarkably developed, is 
distributed on the upper mandible. Animals feel in the whole of 
their external surface ; and we may say that serpents, by coiling 
themselves round a body, have the organ of touch all over them. 
Still the fifth pair of nerves in the head, or the nerve analogous to 
it, is the main instrument of touch in the greater number of animals 
where extremities are wanting. There are organs varying in their 
conformation, sometimes delicate palpa, sometimes horny rods, and 
these are often possessed of muscularity as well as sensibility; but 
to all, the sense of touch is bestowed through a nerve corresponding 
with the fifth pair, the nerve of the tongue and lips, and of the mus- 
cles of the jaws in man. 

But we may repeat, that, necessary as these appendages and this 
sensibility are to the existence of these animals, their imperfections 
serve, by contrast, to show how happily the different properties are 
combined in the hand; in which we perceive the sensibilities to 
changes of temperature, to touch, and to motion, united with a fa- 
cility in the joints of unfolding and moving in every possible degree 
and direction, without abruptness or angularity, and in a manner 
inimitable by any artifice of joints and levers. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE ARGUMENT PURSUED FROM THE COMPARATIVE ANATOMY. 

So far as we have hitherto proceeded, by examining objects in 
comparative anatomy which from their magnitude can not be mis- 
understood, w r e have been led to conclude that, independently of the 
system of parts marvellously combined to form the individual ani- 
mal, there is another, more comprehensive system, which embraces 
all animals ; and which exhibits a certain uniformity in the functions 



ELEMENTAL PARTS. 



73 



of life, however different in form or bulk the creatures may be, or 
to whatever condition of the globe they may have been adapted. 
We have seen no accidental deviation or deformity, but that every 
change has been for a purpose, and every part has had its just rela- 
tion. We have witnessed all the varieties moulded to such a perfect 
accommodation, and the alterations produced by such minute de- 
grees, that all notion of external and accidental agency must be 
rejected. 

We might carry our demonstration downward through the lower 
classes of animals ; for example, we might trace the feet of insects 
from their most perfect or complex state, till they disappear ; or, ob- 
serving the changes in another direction, we might follow out the 
same parts from the smallest beginning to the most perfect condition 
of the member, where we see the thigh, leg, and tarsus of the fly. 

We might distinguish them at first as the fine cirri, like minute 
bristles, which on the bodies of worms take slight hold of the sur- 
face ver which they creep. In the sea-mouse, (aphrodita) we 
mio-ht notice these bristles standing out from distinct mammilla ry 
processes, which are furnished with appropriate muscles. Then in 
the myriapodes, the first order of insects, we might see the same 
" many feet," and each foot having a distinct articulation. From 
that we mio-ht pass to the feet of those insects, where there is a 
thigh, leg, and foot, with the most perfect system of flexors, exten- 
sors, and adductor muscles, possessing, in fine, all that we most ad- 
mire in the human anatomy. Nay, it is most curious to observe 
how the feet of the true insects are again changed or modined ; 
taking new offices, the anterior feet becoming feelers, organs of pre- 
hension, or hands. When, with such an object, we view the delicate 
and curiously adapted instruments of insects, we must perceive Uial 
it would be easy to trace almost every part through a succession 
of modifications: Among the vertebrate we have seen the hand be- 
come a wing or a fin ; so might we trace the wings of insects, 
we begin with a fly, which has two delicate and perfect wings m 
cased Ind protected, we find that the covers are raised to adnut toe 
expansion of the wings. In another, the case becomes ^a .WDg^ 
and the fly is characterized by four wings. Proceed to exam a 
th^rd example, and we shall discover that this anterior wing t 
a rL^mo^^ than the posterior: the fourth specimen has 
S Posterior wings, and has only two perfect ones; and .1 we 
^u^ltirmn^^ next specimen will 
depr ved of wings altogether. These are not freaks of nature, bu 
S fo- of the. body ; new ^n ^es required fcy Mfcjg 



The curious adaptation of a member 
different conditions of the animal has led to a verj 



74 



THEORY OF 



opinion in the present day, — that all animals consist of the same 
elements. It would be just to say that they consist of the same 
chemical elements, and that they attract and assimilate matter by 
the performance of the same vital functions, through every species of 
animals, however different in form and structure. But by the ele- 
ments which are now mentioned, the authors of this new theory 
mean certain pieces which enter into the structure of the body, and 
which they illustrate by the analogy of the building materials of a 
house. If these materials, they say, arc exhausted in the ornamen- 
tal parts of the portico and vestibule, there must be a proportionate 
limitation of the apartments for the family ! 

This new theory has been brought forward with the highest 
pretensions; the authors of it have called upon us to mark the 
moment of its conception as the commencement of a new era! 
They speak of the 44 elective affinities of organs," "the balancing 
of organs," " a new principle of connexion," and a " new theory 
of analysis." — The hypothesis essentially is this, that when a part, 
which belongs to one animal, is missed in another, we are to seek 
for it in some neighbouring organ: and on such grounds they af- 
firm, that this surpasses all former systems as a means of dis- 
covery. Now, the perfection or aggrandizement of any one organ 
of an animal is not attended with the curtailment or proportional 
deficiency of any other. Like ourselves, perhaps, the supporters 
of this theory dwell too much upon the bones ; but even in them, 
we shall show that the system is untenable. In the mean time, we 
may ask, do additional parts connected with the stomach, making 
it highly complex, as in ruminating animals, shorten the intestinal 
canal, or make its form simpler ? On the contrary, is not a com- 
plex stomach necessarily connected with a long and complicated 
intestine 1 — Does a complex intestinal canal throughout all its course 
render imperfect the solid viscera which are in juxtaposition to it? 
Is there any defect in them, because the organs of digestion are 
perfect, or complicated 1 Does the complex heart imply a more 
simple, or a more perfect condition of the lungs'? In short, as ani- 
mals rise in the scale of existence, do we not find that the systems 
of digestion, circulation, respiration and sensation, bear ever a 
proportional increase ? Is there any instance of an improvement 
in one organ thrusting another out of its place, or diminishing its 
volume ? 

Now, as to the osseous system, were we to follow these theorists 
into the very stronghold of their position, the bones of the skull, 
where the real intricacy of the parts allows them some scope for 
their ingenuity, we might show how untenable the principle is 
which they assume. But we must confine ourselves to our own 
subject. 

In the higher orders of the vertebrata, we find that the bones of 
the shoulder perform a double office ; that they have an important 



ELEMENTAL PARTS. - % 

share in the act of respiration, whilst they are perfect as a found* 
tion for the extremity. Now, let us take an instate I e 
mode of respiration of the animal is inconsistent with what - may 
term the original mechanism of the bones of the shoulder L the 

£^±7 th % n n S are wanti "S: Where then arc we to look 

for them? Shall we follow a system which informs us that when a 
bone is wanting in the cavity of the ear, we are to seek for 5 
m the jaw; and which yet, shall leave ns in the contemplat 
of this cte of annuals deficient in thirty-two ribs, without po , 
out where they are to be found, or how their element, are I, n it 
up in other structures? If, on the contrary, we take the principle 
that parts are formed or withdrawn, with a never^failing relation 
to the function which is to be performed, we see that no sooner 
are the compages of the chest removed, and the shoulder thus 
deprived of support, than the bones to which the extremity 
are expanded and varied, both in form and articulation, *so as to 
fulfil their mam object of giving security and motion to the arm. 

With respect to the instance which we have accidental^ noticed 
regarding the mechanism of the jaw in birds, and which is brou lit 
forward so vauntingly, as a proof of the excellence of the theoryj 
it does, indeed, prove the reverse of what is assumed. The only 
effect of this hypothesis is to make us lose sight of the principle 
which ought to direct us in the observation of such curious struc- 
tures, as well as of the conclusions to which an unbiassed mind 
would come. The matter to be explained is simply this:— the 
chain of bones in the ear, which is so curiously adapted in the 
mammalia to convey the vibrations of the membrane of the tvmpa- 
num to the nerve of hearing, is not found in the organ of hearing 
in birds; but there is substituted a mechanism entirely different 
They choose to say that the incus, one of the bones of the chain, is 
wanting in the bird. Where shall we find it ?— they ask. Here it 
is in the apparatus of the jaw or mandible; in that bone which is 
called os quadratum. I believe that the slight and accidental re- 
semblance which this bone (b.) in the bird has to the incus, is the 
real origin of this fancy. Let us follow a juster mode of reason- 
ing, and see how this hypothesis obscures the beauty If the sub- 
ject. The first step of the investigation ought to be to inquire into 
the fact, if there be any imperfection in the hearing of birds. That 
is easily answered — the hearing of birds is most acute ; the slighest 
noise alarms ; and the nightingale, or other bird of son<;, in a 
summer evening, will answer to the note of his rival, when lie ifi 
out of our hearing. We have next to observe the imperfection 
in the organ — the want of an external ear; which, were it present 
would be at variance with all that we have most to admire in the 
shape of the bird and the direction of the feathers, as conducing t<» 
its rapid passage through the air. With this obvious defect of the 
external ear, can we admit that the internal ear is also imperfect. 



76 



THEORY OF 



notwithstanding the very remarkable acuteness of hearing, which 
we know to result from this internal structure, and from it alone? 
Now we do, in fact, find a different structure in the ear of birds ; 
but, yet nothing is wanting. The columella is a shaft of bone of 
exquisite delicacy, which is extended from the outward membrane 
of the ear to the labyrinth or proper seat of the nerve of hearing. 
It occupies the place and office of the chain of four bones which 
belong to the ear of mammalia. We have no authority, however, 
for affirming that the incus is here wanting more than any other 
bone of the chain ; — and if it be said that the os quadratum is the 
missing incus, why should not we find in the oviparous reptiles, 
where there is a columella in the ear, an os quadratum in the jaw 1 

From this mode of inquiry, we find that the sense of hearing 
is enjoyed in an exquisite degree in birds : that the organ of the 
sense is not imperfect, but is adapted to a new construction, and 
a varied apparatus — suited to the condition of the bird : and that 
there is no accidental dislocation or substitution of something less 
perfect than what we find in other classes of animals. 

If we now look to the structure of the mandible of the bird, 
we shall find as curious, though a somewhat grosser example of 
mechanical relation. The bill of the bird, in some degree, pertains 
to our subject, as it is the organ of prehension and of touch. 
It is withal a fly trap — hence, its motions must be rapid : and 
the velocity is increased by the most obvious means imaginable, — 
that is, by giving motion to both mandibles, instead of to one. 
When a dog snaps he throws back his head, and thereby raises 
the upper jaw at the same time that the lower jaw is dropped ; 
but these are slow and clumsy motions, pertaining to the muscles 
of the neck as well as of the jaws, and the poor hound makes many 
attempts before he catches the fly that teazes him. But a swallow 
or fly-catcher makes no second effort, so admirably suited is the 
apparatus of prehension to the liveliness of the eye and the in- 
stinct. . The adaptation of the instrument consists in this, that the 




muscles which open the lower mandible, by the same effort, open 
the upper one : a. is a process of the lower mandible, projecting 



ELEMENTAL PARTS. ' j 

much behind the centre of motion, and the muscle which is attached 
to it opens the bill ;— but at the same time, the lower mandible 
presses upon the bone b., the os quadraium : now, there is attached 
to this bone, projecting forwards, with its anterior extremity 6xed 
against the upper mandible, a shaft or process of bone a: and 
this receives the pressure of the os quadraium, when the muscle 
acts ; so that being thrust forwards, like a bolt, it opens the upper 
mandible, which moves upon the skull at d. Here, then, ia a piece 
of mechanism as distinct as the lock of a gun, which is for tlx' pur- 
pose, as we have said, of giving rapidity to the motions of the 
bill. Is it nearer the truth to consider this as a new apparatus 
suiting the necessities of the creature, or an accidental result of 
the introduction of a bone, which in its proper office has nothing 
to do with the jaw ? 

But we have wandered somewhat from our subject. We have 
taken the bones of the shoulder, or those of the extremity which are 
nearest to the trunk; we may pursue the inquiry bv noticing those 
which are most romote from it. In the bones of the hand, 
have seen that the same system was variously modified so as to be 
adapted to every possible change in office. But as it is insisted that 
the number of parts continue the same, what can we say to the 
bones of the paddle in the saurian and chelonian tribes, which, as 
in the ichtyosaurus for example, consist of sixty or seventy polv- 
gonous bones; whilst in the horse there are only fifteen bones ; and 
in man, twenty-seven. Yet, with all those bones in the paddle, 
there is still the full complement in the part that corresponds with 
the arm. If the system fails us in such an obvious instance as this, 
with what confidence can we prosecute the intricate bones of th<' 
spine and head under its guidance ? 

Seeking assistance from the works of distinguished naturalists 
we do not always find that disposition of mind prevail, which wo 
should be apt to suppose a necessary result of their peculiar 
studies. We do not discover that combination of genius with 
sound sense, which distinguished Cuvier, and the great men of 
science. It is, above all, surprising with what perverse ingenuity 
men seek to obscure the conception of a Divine Author, an intelli- 
gent, designing, and benevolent Being — rather clinging to the 
greatest absurdities, or interposing the cold and inanimate influence 
of the mere elements, in a manner to extinguish all feeling of de- 
pendence in our minds, and all emotions of gratitude. 

Some will maintain that all the varieties which we sec, arc the 
result of a change of circumstances influencing the original animal ; 
or that new organs have been produced by a desire and conse- 
quent effort of the animal to stretch and mould itself— that, as the 
leaves of a plant expand to light, or turn to the sun, or as the roots 
shoot to the appropriate soil, so do the exterior organs ol animals 
grow and adapt themselves. We shall presently find that an 

8 



78 



THEORY OF THE SURROUNDING INFLUENCE. 



pinion has prevailed that the organization of animals determines 
their propensities ; but the philosophers, of whom we are now 
speaking, imagine the contrary, — that under the influence of new 
circumstances, organs have accommodated themselves, and assumed 
their particular forms. 

It must be here remarked that there are no instances of the pro- 
duction of new organs by the union of individuals belonging to dif- 
ferent species. Nor is there any foundation in observation for the 
opinion that a new species may be formed by the union of indivi- 
duals of different families. But it is contended, that, although the 
species of animals have not changed in the last 5000 years, we do 
not know what might have been the effect of the revolution before 
that time ; that is, previous to the present condition of the world. 
But, on subjects of this nature, we must argue from what we know, 
and from what we see. 

We do perceive surprising changes in the conformation of ani- 
mals ; some of them are very familiar to us ; but all show a fore- 
knowledge and a prospective plan, an alteration gradually taking 
place in preparation for the condition, never consequent upon it. It 
will be sufficient for our purpose, if we take the highest and the 
lowest examples. Man has two conditions of existence in the body. 
Hardly two creatures can be less alike than an infant and a man. 
The whole foetal state is a preparation for birth. My readers would 
not thank me, were I to show how necessary all the proportions 
and forms of the infant are to his being born alive, — and yet no- 
thing is so easy to demonstrate. Every one may see that from the 
moment of birth there is a new impulse given to the growth, so as 
finally to adapt the proportions of the body to the state of perfect 
manhood. Few, however, are aware that the foetus has a life 
adapted to its condition, and that if the confinement of the womb 
were protracted beyond the appointed time, it must die ! — from no 
defect of nourishment, but simply, because the time is come for a 
change in its whole economy ! 

Now, during all the long period of gestation, the organs are 
forming ; the lungs are perfected before the admission of air — new 
tubes are constructed before the flood-gates, which are to admit 
the blood, are opened. But there are finer, and more curious, pro- 
visions than these. If we take any of the grand organs, as the 
heart, or the brain, and examine it through all its gradations of 
change in the embryo state, we shall recognise it simple, at first, 
and gradually developing, and assuming the peculiarities which 
finally distinguish it. So that it is affirmed, and not without the 
support of a most curious series of observations, that the human 
brain, in its earlier stage, resembles that of a fish : as it is deve- 
loped, it resembles more the cerebral mass of the reptile ; in its in- 
crease, it is like that of a bird, and slowly, and only after birth, does 
it assume the proper form and consistence of the human encephalon. 



THESE THEORIES INCORRECT. 79 

But in all these changes to which man is subject, wc nowhere see 
the influence of the elements, or any other cause than that il 
been so predestined And if, passing, over the thousand instai 
which might be gathered from the intermediate parts of the cl 
of animal existence, we take the lowest link, and look to the met* 
morphosis of insects, the conclusion will be the same. 

For example, if we examine the larva of a winged insect, we 
shall see the provisions for its motion over the ground, in t 
dition, all admirably supplied in the arrangement of its I - j, 
and the distribution of its nervous system. But if, antic 
its metamorphosis, we dissect the same larva immediately before 
the change, we shall find a new apparatus in progress towards 
perfection ; the muscles of its many feet are seen decaying ; the 
nerves to each muscle are wasting ; a new arrangement of muscles, 
with new points of attachment, directed to the wings instead of 
the feet, is now visible ; and a new distribution of nerves is dis- 
tinctly to be traced, accommodated to the parts which are now to 
be put in motion. Here is no budding and stretching forth under 
the influence of the surrounding elements ; but a change operated 
on all the economy, and prospective, that is, in reference to a con- 
dition which the creature has not yet attained. 

These facts countenance the conclusion drawn from the compa- 
rative anatomy of the hand and arm — that with each new instru- 
ment, visible externally, there are a thousand internal relations es- 
tablished : a mechanical contrivance in the bones and joints, which 
alters every part of the skeleton : an arrangement of muscles, in 
just correspondence : a texture of nervous filaments, which is laid 
intermediate between the instrument and the very centre of life and 
motion ; and, finally, as we shall discover from what follows, new 
sources of activity must be created in relation to the new organ, 
otherwise the part will hang a useless appendage. 

It must now be apparent that nothing less than the Power, which 
originally created, is equal to the effecting of those changes on 
animals, which are to adapt them to their conditions : that their 
organization is predetermined, and not consequent on the condi- 
tion of the earth or the surrounding elements. Neither can a 
property in the animal itself account for the changes whic h take 
place in the individual, any more than for the varieties which take 
place in the species. Everything declares the species tu have its 
origin in a distinct creation, not in a gradual variation from BOme 
original type; and any other hypothesis than that of a new creation 
of animals suited to the successive changes in the inorganic matter 
of the globe — the condition of the water, atmosphere, and tempe- 
rature — brings with it only an accumulation of difficulties. 



80 



OF SENSIBILITY AND TOUCH. 



CHAPTER VII. 

OF SENSIBILITY AND TOUCH. 

We find every organ of sense, with the exception of that of 
touch, more perfect in brutes than in man. In the eagle and the 
hawk, in the gazelle and in the feline tribe, the perfection of the eye 
is admirable; — in the dog, wolf, hyena, as well as in birds of prey, 
the sense of smelling is inconceivably acute ; and if we should have 
some hesitation in assigning a moro exquisite sense of taste to 
brutes, we cannot doubt the superiority of that of hearing in the 
inferior animals. But in the sense of touch, seated in the hand, 
man claims the superiority ; and it is of consequence to our con- 
clusion that we should observe why it is so. 

It has been said that, accompanying the exercise of touch, there 
is a desire of obtaining knowledge ; in other words, a determi- 
nation of the will towards the organ of the sense. Bichat says, 
it is active whilst the other senses are passive. This opinion implies 
that there is something to be understood — something deeper than 
what is here expressed. We shall arrive at the truth by consider- 
ing that in the use of the hand there is a double sense exercised; 
we must not only feel the contact of the object, but we must be 
sensible to the muscular effort which is made to reach it, or to 
grasp it in the fingers. It is in the exercise of this latter power 
that there is really an effort made ; there is no more direction of 
the will towards the nerve of touch, than towards any other sensible 
nerve. But, before entering on the consideration of the sensibility 
and action which belong to the fingers, we must attend to the 
common sensibility of the surface. 

Besides that the common sensibility belongs to the hand, and 
that some inquiry into it is necessary to the completion of our 
subject, I pursue it the more willingly, because there is no other 
which affords more surprising proofs of design and of benevolence 
in the Author of our being. However obvious the proofs may be 
which are drawn from the mechanism of the body, they are not to 
be compared with, in this respect, to those which are derived from 
the living endowments of the frame. 

I have used the term common sensibility in conformity with the 
language of authors and with customary parlance; but the ex- 
pressions, the " common nerves," and the " common sensibility," 
in a philosophical inquiry, are inadmissible. Indeed, these terms 
have been the cause of much of the obscurity which has hung 
over the subject of the nervous system, and of our blindness to 
the benevolent adaptation of the endowments of that system to the 
condition of animal existence. Thus, it has been supposed that 



SENSIBILITY OF THE SURFACE. 



Si 



some nerves are more coarsely provided for sensation, and that 
others are of a finer quality, adapted to more delicate impressions. 
It is assumed that the nerve of the eve is finer than the nerve of 
the finger — without considering that the retina is insensible to that 
quality of matter of which we readily acquire the knowledge 
through touch. Nerves are, indeed, appropriated to peculiar senses, 
and to the bestowing of distinct functions, but delicacy of texture 
has nothing to do with this. The nerve of touch in the skin ifl 
insensible to light or to sound, not because it has a coarser or 
more common texture: The beauty and perfection of the system is, 
that the nerve is made susceptible to its peculiar impression only. 
The nerve of the skin is alone capable of giving the sense i f 
contact, as the nerve of vision is confined to its own office. It' this 
appropriation resulted merely from a more delicate texture: if the 
retina w r ere sensible to the matter of light only from possessing 
finer sensibility than the nerve of touch, it would be a source 
torment; whereas it is most beneficently provided that it shall 
not be sensible to pain, nor be capable of conveying any impres- 
sions to the mind, but those which operate according to its 
proper function, producing light and colour. 

The pain which we experience in the eye, and the irritation 
from dust, are owing to a distinct nerve from that of vision, ami 
are consequent on the susceptibility of the surface to a differed 
kind of impression ; of which more presently. We should keep 
in mind the interesting fact, that when surgeons perforin the opera- 
tion of couching, the point of the needle, in passing through the 
outer coat of the eye, gives a sensation of pricking, which is an 
exercise of the nerve of touch; but when the point passes through 
the retina, which is the expanded nerve of vision and form the inter- 
nal coat of the eye, the sensation that is produced is as of a spark 
of fire. The nerve of vision is as insensible to touch as the nerve 
of touch is to light.* 

The extreme sensibility of the skin to the slightest injury con- 
veys to every one the notion— that the pain must be the more 
severe the deeper the wound. This is not the fact, nor would it 
accord with the beneficent design which shines out every where. 
The sensibility of the skin serves not only to give the sense oi touch, 
but it is a guard upon the deeper parts; and as they cannot 
be reached except through the skin, and we must sut er pain, 
therefore, before they are injured, it would be superfluous to 

*The views of the nervous system, which are shortly ^vunn thH . . 

^^^A^^A^RSL 

try, are inexcusuble when they countenance these assumptions. 

8 * 



82 



SENSIBILITY OF THE SURFACE. 



bestow sensibility upon these deeper parts. If the internal parts 
which act in the motions of the body had possessed a similar de- 
gree and kind of sensibility with the skin, so far from serving any 
useful purpose, this sensibility would have been a source of incon- 
venience and continual pain in the common exercise of the frame. 

The reason why surgeons more than physicians have advanced 
the study of physiology, may be, that they become practically ac- 
quainted with the phenomena on which the science is founded. The 
surgeon who has to perform an operation by incision, when he has 
cut through the skin, informs his patient that the greatest pain is 
over. If, in the advanced stage of the operation, he has to extend 
the incision of the skin, it is very properly considered as a great 
awkwardness; and this not only because it proves that he has mis- 
calculated what was necessary to the correct performance of his 
operation, but because the patient, bearing courageously the deeper 
incisions, cannot sustain the renewed cutting of the skin, without 
giving token of severe pain. 

The fact of the exquisite sensibility of the surface, in comparison 
with the deeper parts, being thus ascertained by daily experience, 
we cannot mistake the intention : that the skin is made a safeguard 
to the delicate textures which are contained within, by forcing us to 
avoid injuries: and it does afford us a more effectual defence than if 
our bodies were covered with the hide of the rhinoceros. 

The fuller the consideration which we give to this subject, the 
more convincing are the proofs that the painful sensibility of the skin 
is a benevolent provision, making us alive to those injuries, which, 
but for this quality of the nervous system, would bruise and destroy 
the internal and vital parts. In pursuing the inquiry, we learn with 
much interest that when the bones, joints, and all the membranes 
and ligaments which cover them, are exposed — they may be cut, 
pricked, or even burned, without the patient or the animal, suffering 
the slightest pain. These facts must appear to be conclusive ; for 
who, witnessing these instances of insensibility, would not conclude 
that the parts were devoid of sensation. But when we take the true, 
philosophical, and I may say the religious view of the subject, and 
consider that pain is not an evil, but given for benevolent purposes 
and for some important object, we should be unwilling to terminate 
the investigation here. 

In the first place, we must perceive that if a sensibility similar to 
that of the skin had been given to these internal parts, it must have 
remained unexercised. Had they been made sensible to pricking 
and burning, they would have possessed a quality which would never 
have been useful, since no such injuries can reach them ; or never 
without warning being received through the sensibility of the skin. 

But, further, if we find that sensibility to pain is a benevolent pro- 
vision, and is bestowed for the purpose of warning us to avoid such 
violence as would affect the functions or uses of the parts, we may 



PAIN THE SAFEGUARD OF THE BODY. 



yet inquire whether any injury can reach these internal parts with- 
out the sensibility of the skin being excited. Now, of this there can 
be no doubt, for they are subject to sprain, and rupture, and shocks, 
without the skin being implicated in the accident. If we have been 
correct in our inference, there should be a provision to guide us in 
the safe exercise of the limbs; and notwithstanding what has been 
apparently demonstrated of the insensibility of these interna] parts, 
they must possess an appropriate sensibility, or it would imply an 
imperfection. 

With these reflections, we recur to experiment — and we find that 
the parts, which are insensible to pricking, cutting, and burning, arc 
actually sensible to concussion, to stretching, or laceration. 

How consistent, then, and beautiful is the distribution of this 
quality of life ! The sensibility to pain varies with the function of the 
part. The skin is endowed with sensibility to every possible injuri- 
ous impression which may be made upon it. But had this kind and 
degree of sensibility been made universal, we should have been 
racked with pain in the common motions of the body : the mere 
weight of one part on another, or the motion of the joint, would have 
been attended with that degree of suffering which we experience in 
using or walking with an inflamed limb. 

But on the other hand, had the deeper parts possessed no sensibi- 
lity , we should have had no guide in our exertions. They have a 
sensibility limited to the kind of injury which it is possible may 
reach them, and which teaches us what we can do with impunity. 
If we leap from too great a height, or carry too great a burthen, or 
attempt to interrupt a body whose impetus is too great for us, we 
are warned of the danger as effectually by this internal sensibility, 
as we are of the approach of a sharp point or a hot iron to the skin. 

Returning to the consideration of the sensibility of the skin, in 
order more fully to comprehend the benevolent eflect ot it, or in 
other words, its necessity to our very existence, I may be cxeu>e.l 
for stating the argument to the reader as I have delivered it in m) 
lectures to the College of Surgeons. _ 

« Without meaning to impute to you inattention or restlessness l 
may request you to observe how everyone occasionally changes his 
position and shifts the pressure of the weight of his body ; were you 
constrained to retain one position during the whole hou, , you won 
rise stiff and lame. The sensibility of the skin is here guiding jpou 
to that, which if neglected, would be followed even by the death ot 
the pan. When a patient has been received into the hospital * rth 
paralysis of the lower part of the body, we must give especial c u ee- 
&ns to the nurse and attendants that the position of his ™bsstouW 
be changed at short intervals, that pillows should be pbc 
his loins°and hams, and that they should be often shi ted. I I tl » be 
neglected, you know the consequence to be inflammation oi the parts 



84 



SENSIBILITY TO HEAT. 



that press upon the bed ; from which come local irritation, then fever 
and mortification and death. 

u Thus you perceive that the natural sensibility of the skin, without 
disturbing your train of thought, induces you to shift the body so as 
to permit the free circulation of the blood in the minute vessels ; and 
that when this sensibility is wanting, the utmost attention of friends 
and the watchfulness of the nurse are but a poor substitute for this 
protection which nature is continually affording. If you suffer thus 
lying on a soft bed, when deprived of the sensibility of the skin, how 
could you encounter without it the rubs and impulses incident to an 
active life I You must now acknowledge that the sensibility of the 
skin is as much a protection to the frame generally, as the sensibi- 
lity of the eyelids is to the eyes, and gives you a motive for grati- 
tude which probably you never thought of." 

The sensibility of the hand to heat, is a different endowment from 
that of touch. This sensibility to the varieties of temperature is 
seated in the skin, and is, consequently, limited to the exterior sur- 
face of the body. The internal parts of the body being of a uni- 
form temperature, it would have been, in them, a quality altogether 
superfluous. But as we are surrounded by a temperature continu- 
ally varying, and are subject to destruction by its extremes, and as 
we must suit our exertions or our contrivances so as to sustain life 
against these vicissitudes, our possession of this peculiar sensibility 
OB the surface affords another proof of there having been a fore- 
knowledge of our condition. We might, indeed, take our former 
example in evidence of what must belal through the want of this 
sensibility — the paralytic is brought to us severely burned, or with 
his extremities mortified through cold. A man having lost the sense 
of heat in his right hand, but retaining the muscular power, lifted the 
cover of a pan which had fallen into the fire and deliberately re- 
placed it, not being conscious that it was burning hot ; the effect, 
however, was the death and destruction of the skin of the palm and 
fingers. In this man there was a continual sensation of coldness in 
the affected arm, which actual cold applied to the extremity did not 
aggravate nor heat in any degree assuage.* Sensibility to heat is 
a safeguard in as much as it is capable of becoming a painful sen- 
sation, whilst it is a never-failing excitement to activity and a conti- 
nual source of enjoyment. 

And here we may remark an adaptation of the living property 
very different from the physical influence. Heat is uniform in its 
effect on matter; but the sensation varies as it is given or abstracted 
from the living body. Cold and heat are distinct sensations ; and 
this is so far important that without such contrast we should not 
continue to enjoy the sense. For in the nervous system it holds 



• There are certain morbid conditions of sensation when cold bodies feel intensely 
hot. — Dr. .ibercrombie's Inquiry into the Intellectual powers. 



SENSIBILITY OF THE EYE. M 

universally that variety or contrast is necessary to sensation, the 
finest organ of sense losing its property by the continuance of the 
same impression It is by a comparison of cold and heat that we 
enjoy either condition. 

To contrast still more strongly the sensibility of the surface with 
the property of internal parts, to show how very different sensibility 
is, in reality, from what is suggested by first experience, and how 
admirably it is varied and accommodated to the functions, we shall 
add one other fact. The brain is insensible-that part of the brain, 
which if disturbed or diseased, takes away consciousness, is as in- 
sensible as the leather of our shoe! That the brain mav be touched 
or a portion of it cut off, without interrupting the patient in the sen- 
tence that he is uttering, is a surprising circumstance! From this 
fact Physiologists formerly inferred that the surgeon had not reached 
the more important organ of the brain. But that opinion arose from 
the notion prevailing that a nerve must necessarily be sensible. 
Whereas, when we consider that the different parts of the nervous 
system have totally distinct endowments, and that there are nerves, 
as I have elsewhere shown, insensible to touch and incapable of giv- 
ing pain, though exquisitely alive to their proper office, we have no 
just reason to conclude that the brain should be sensible, or exhibit 
the property of a nerve of the skin. Reason on it as we may, the 
fact is so ; — the brain, through which every impression must be con- 
veyed before it is perceived, is itself insensible. This informs us 
that sensibility is not a necessary attendant on the delicate texture 
of a living part, but that it must have an appropriate organ, and that 
it is an especial provision.* 

To satisfy my reader on this interesting subject, I shall take the 
contrast of two organs, one external and exposed, and the other in- 
ternal and carefully excluded from injury. 

The eye, consisting of its proper nerve of vision and its transpa- 
rent humours and coats, is an organ of exquisite delicacy — not only 
is it exposed to all the injuries to which the general surface of the 
body is liable, but to be inflamed and rendered opaque by particles 
getting into it which are so light that they float in the atmosphere, 
and to the contact of which the common skin is quite insensible. 
The mechanical, and more obvious contrivance for the protection of 
this organ, is a ready motion of the eyelids and the shedding of tears j 
which coming, as it were, from a little fountain, play over the sur- 
face of the eye, and wash away whatever is offensive. But to the 
action of this little hydraulic and mechanical apparatus there is re- 
quired an exquisite sensibility to direct it — not that kind of sensibi- 
lity which enables the eye to receive the impressions of light — but a 
property more resembling the tenderness of the skin, yet happily 
adapted, by its fineness, to the condition of the organ. 



• See the Sensibility of the Retina, Appendix. 



86 



SENSIBILITY OF THE EYE. 



A nerve, possessed of a quality totally different from that of the 
optic nerve, extends over all the exterior surfaces of the eye, and 
gives to those surfaces their delicate sensibility. Now it sometimes 
happens that this nerve is injured and its function lost; the conse- 
quences of which are v*ery curious, — smoke and offensive particles, 
which are afloat in the atsmosphere, rest upon the eye : flies and dust 
lodge under the eyelids, without producing sensation, and without 
exciting either the hydraulic or the mechanical apparatus to act for 
the purpose of expelling them. But although they do not give pain, 
they nevertheless stimulate the surfaces so as to produce inflamma- 
tion, and that causes opacity in the fine transparent membranes of 
the eye ; and the organ is lost, although the proper nerve of vision 
remains entire. I have seen many instances of the eye being thus 
destroyed for want of sensibility to touch,* and it has been curious 
to remark that when the hand was waved or a feather brought near 
the eye, the person winked ; yet he did not shut his eye on rubbing 
the finger across the eyeball, or when blood was removed by the 
lancet from the inflamed vessels. In those cases, when vision gave 
notice of danger to the organ, the patient winked to avoid it, but 
when the point touched the eye or eyelids, the sense of touch gave 
no alarm, and was followed by no action for the protection of the 
organ. 

I shall present another instance of the peculiar nature of the sensi- 
bility which protects the eye. The Oculist has observed that by the 
touch of a thing as light as a feather, the muscles of the eye will be 
thrown into uncontrollable actions and spasm ; but if the point of 
the finger be pressed somewhat rudely between the eyelids, and di- 
rectly on the eve itself, he can by such means hold the eye steady 
for his intended operation, producing hardly any sensation, certainly 
no pain ! 

This is one of the little secrets of the art; the Oculist turns out the 
eyelids, and fingers the eye, in a manner which appears, at once, 
rude and masterly : and still the wonder grows that he can do such 
things with so much dexterity as to inflict no pain, when by daily ex- 
perience we know that even a grain of sand in the eye will torture us. 
The explanation is this : the eye and eyelids are possessed of a sensi- 
bility which is so adjusted as to excite the action of its protecting 
parts against such small particles as might lodge and inflame its fine 
membranes. But the apparatus is not capable of protecting the sur- 
face of the eye against the intrusion of a stick or a stone ; from such 
injuries it could not be defended by a delicate sensibility and involun- 
tary action, but only by the effort of the will. 

In these details we have new proofs of the minute relation which 
is established between the species of sensibility in an organ and the 

* They are stated at length in my papers in the Philosophical Transactions, and 
in the Appendix of my work on the Nervous System. 



SENSIBILITY OF THE HEART. 



end to be attained through it. It will not be denied that but for the 

^nt nf t T- is ex P° sed ' we should H uickK ' ^ c *■ enjoi - 

ment of the sense of vision altogether. But we were about to msti- 
tute a comparison of the eye with the heart. 

The observation of the admirable Harvey, the discoverer of the 
circulation of the blood, is to this effect. A noble vouth of the family 
ot Montgomery, from a fall and consequent abscess on the -id.- of 
the chest, had the interior marvellously exposed, so that, 
cure, on his return from his travels, the heart and lungs were still 
visible and could be handled; which when it was communicated to 
Charles I., he expressed a desire that Harvey should be permitted to 
see the youth and examine his heart. "When," says Harvev, "I 
had paid my respects to this young nobleman, and conveyed to 
him the king's request, he made no concealment, but exposed the 
left side of his breast, when I saw a cavity into which' I could in- 
troduce my fingers and thumb; astonished with the noveltv, a^ain 
and again I explored the wound, and first marvelling at the extra- 
ordinary nature of the cure, I set about the examination of the 
heart. Taking it in one hand, and placing the finger of the other 
on the pulse of the wrist, I satisfied myself that it was indeed the 
heart which I grasped. I then brought him to the king that he 
might behold and touch so extraordinary a thing, and that he 
might perceive, as I did, that unless when we touched the o 
skin, or when he saw our fingers in the cavity, this young noble- 
man knew not that we touched his heart!" Other observations 
confirm this great authority, and the heart is declared insensible. 
And yet the opinions of mankind must not be lightly condemned. N< >t 
only does every emotion of the mind affect the heart, but every 
change in the condition of the body is attended with a correspond- 
ing change in the heart: motion during health — the influence of 
disease — every passing thought will influence it. Here is the dis- 
tinction manifested. The sensibility of the surface of the eye is for 
a purpose, and so is the sensibility of the heart. Whilst that of the 
eye guards it against injury from without, the heart, insensible to 
touch, is yet alive to every variation in the circulation, subjeel to 
change from every alteration of posture or of exertion, ami is in 
sympathy of the strictest kind with the constitutional powers. 

When we consider these facts, we can no longer doubt that the 
sensibilities of the living frame are appropriate endowments 5 not 
qualities necessarily arising from life; still less the consequences ol 
delicacy of texture. Nor can we, I should hope, longer doubt that 
they are suited to the condition, and especially to the degree oi ex- 
posure of each part, and for its protection. We perceive that the 
sensibilities vary in an extraordinary manner as they are L r i\< n to 
external or to internal parts, as they belong to one apparatus "I ac- 
ton or to another, and they are ever adapted to excite some salu- 
tary or necessary action. We perceive no instance of pain being be- 



88 



PAIN NECESSARY TO EXISTENCE. 



stowed as a source of suffering or punishment purely, or without 
finding it overbalanced by great and essential advantages — without, 
in short, being forced to admit that no happier contrivance could be 
found for the protection of the part. It is provided that the more an 
organ is exposed, and in proportion to its delicacy of organization — 
the more exquisitely contrived is the apparatus for its protection, and 
the more peremptory the call for the activity of that mechanism. 
The motive to action admits of no thought and no hesitation, and the 
action is more instantaneous than the quickest suggestion or impulse 
of the will. 

We are speaking of the natural functions of the body. It requires 
a deeper consideration, and is indeed foreign to my subject to speak 
of the pains which result from disease, or to reconcile those who 
sutler in an extraordinary degree to the dispensations of Providence. 
But as a witness I may speak. It is my daily duty to visit certain 
wards of the hospital, where there is no patient admitted but with 
that complaint which most fills the imagination with the idea of in- 
sufferable pain and certain death. Yet these wards are not the 
least remarkable for the composure and cheerfulness of their inmates. 
The individual who suffers has a mysterious counterbalance to that 
condition, which to us who look upon her, appears to be attended 
with no alleviating circumstance. 

It affords an instance of the boldness with which philosophers have 
questioned the ways of Providence, that they have asked — why were 
not all our actions performed at the suggestion of pleasure ? why 
should we be subject to pain at all ? In answer to this I should say, 
in the first place, that consistently with our condition, our sensations 
and pleasures, there must be variety in the impressions; such con- 
trast and variety are common to every variety of sense; and the 
continuance of an impression on any one organ, occasions it to fade. 
If the eye continue to look steadfastly upon one object, the image is 
soon lost — if we continue to look on one colour, we become insen- 
sible to that colour, and opposite colours to each other are neces- 
sary for a perfect impression. So have we seen that in the insensi- 
bilities of the skin variations are necessary to continued sensation. 

It is difficult to say what these philosophers would define as plea- 
sure : but whatever exercise of the senses it should be, unless we are 
to suppose an entire change of our nature, its opposite is also implied. 
Nay, further, in this fanciful condition of existence, did any thing of 
our present nature prevail, emotions purely of pleasure would lead 
to indolence, relaxation, and indifference. To what end should there 
be an apparatus to protect the eye, since pleasure could never move 
us to its exercise ? Could the windpipe and the interior of the lungs 
be protected by a pleasurable sensation attended with the slow de- 
termination of the will — instead of the rapid and powerful influence 
w 7 hich the exquisite sensibility of the throat has upon the act of re- 



OF THE SENSES GENERALLY. s ,, 

l^tt? r° Se forc [ ble 7 et plated exertions, which DOthin* 
but the instinctive apprehension of death could excite I % 
To suppose that we could be moved by the solicitations of plea- 
sure and have no experience of pain, would be to place us where - 
juries would meet us at every step and in every motion, and whether 
felt or not, would be destructive to life. To suppose that we are to 
move and act without experience of resistance and of pain is to 
suppose not only that man's nature is changed, but the whole', ,f cx 
tenor nature also— there must be nothing to bruise the bodv or hurt 
the eye, nothing noxious to be drawn in with the breath : in shori it 
is to imagine altogether another state of existence, and the philoso- 
pher would be mortified were we to put this interpretation on Ins 
meaning. Pain is the necessary contrast to pleasure : it ushers us 
into existence or consciousness : it alone is capable of exciting the 
organs into activity: it is the companion and the guardian of hu- 
man life. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

OF THE SENSES GENERALLY, INTRODUCTORY TO THE SENSE OF TOUCH. 

Although we are most familiar with the sensibility of the skin, 
and believe that we perfectly understand the nature of the im- 
pressions upon it and the mode of their conveyance to the senso- 
rium, yet there is a difficulty in comprehending the operations of ail 
the organs of the senses — a -difficulty not removed by the apparent 
.simplicity of that of touch. 

There was a time when the inquirer was satisfied on finding that 
in the ear there was a little drum and a bone to play upon if, 
with an accompanying nerve. This was deemed a sufficient expla- 
nation of the organ of hearing. It was thought equally satisfactory 
if in experimenting upon the eye, the image was seen painted at 
the bottom of it on the surface of the nerve. But although the im- 
pression be thus traced to the extremity of the nerve, still we 
comprehend nothing of the nature of that impression, or of the 
manner in which it is transmitted to the sensorium. To the moat 
minute examination, the nerves, in all their course, and where 
they are expanded into the external organs of sense, seem the 
same in substance and in structure. The disturbance of the extre- 
mity of the nerve, the vibrations upon it, or the images painted 
upon its surface, cannot be transmitted to the brain according t«> 
any physical laws that we are acquainted with. The impression on 
the nerve can have no resemblance to the ideas suggested in the 

9 



90 



ORIGIN OF IDEAS. 



mind. All that we can say is, that the agitations of the nerves of 
the outward senses are the signals, which the Author of nature has 
made the means of correspondence with the realities. There is no 
more resemblance between the impressions on the senses and the 
ideas excited by them, than there is between the sound and the con- 
ception raised in the mind of that man who, looking out on a dark 
and stormy sea, hears the report of cannon, which conveys to him 
the idea of despair and shipwreck — or between the impression of 
light on the eye, and the idea of him who, having been long in 
terror of national convulsion, sees afar off a column of flame, 
which is the signal of actual revolt. 

By such illustrations, however, we rather show the mind's in- 
dependence of the organ of sense, and how a tumult of ideas will 
be excited by an impression on the retina, which, notwithstanding, 
may be no more intense than that produced by a burning taper. 
They are instances of excited imagination. But even the deter- 
mined relations which are established in a common act of percep- 
tion between the sensation and the idea in the mind, have no more 
actual resemblance. How the consent, which is so precise and 
constant, is established, can neither be explained by anatomy nor 
by physiology, nor by any mode of physical inquiry whatever. 

From this law of our nature, that certain ideas originate in the 
mind in consequence of the operation of corresponding nerves, it 
follows — that one organ of sense can never become the substitute 
for another, so as to excite in the mind the same idea. 

When an individual is deprived of the organs of sight, no power 
of attention, or continued effort of the will, or exercise of the 
other senses, can make him enjoy the class of sensations which 
is lost. The sense of touch may be increased in an exquisite de- 
gree ; but were it true, as has been asserted, that individuals can 
discover colours by the touch, it could only be by feeling a change 
upon the surface of the stuff and not by any perception of the 
colour. It has been my painful duty to attend on persons who have 
pretended blindness and that they could see with their fingers. But 
I have ever found that by a deviation from truth in the first in- 
stance, they have been entangled in a tissue of deceit ; and have 
at last been forced into admissions which demonstrated their folly 
and weak inventions. I have had pity for such patients, when they 
have been the subjects of nervous disorders which have produced 
extraordinary sensibility in their organs — such as a power of hear- 
ing much beyond our common experience; for it has attracted 
high interest and admiration, and has gradually led them to pre- 
tend to powers greater than they actually possessed. In such cases 
it is difficult to distinguish the symptoms of disease, from the pre- 
tended gifts which are boasted of. 

Experiment proves, what is suggested by Anatomy, that not 
only the organs are appropriated to particular classes of sensations, 



MORBID SENSATIONS. <J1 

but that the nerves, intermediate between the brain and the out- 
ward organs, are respectively capable of receiving no other sensa- 
tions but such as are adapted to their particular organs. 

Every impression on the nerve of the eye, or of the ear, or 
on the nerve of smelling, or of taste, excites only ideas of vision, 
of hearing, of smelling, or of tasting ; not solely because the ex- 
tremities of the nerves, individually, are suited to external imp » 
sions, but because the nerves are, through their whole course and 
wherever they are irritated, capable of exciting in the mind the 
idea to which they are appropriate, and no other. A blow, an im- 
pulse quite unlike that for which the organs of the senses are 
provided, will excite them all in their several ways; the eyes will 
flash fire, while there is noise in the ears. An officer received a 
musket-ball which went through the bones of his face — in de 
his sensations, he said that he felt as if there had been a flash of 
lightning, accompanied with a sound like the shutting of the door 
of St. Pauls. 

On this circumstance, of every nerve being appropriated to its 
function, depend the false sensations which accompany the morbid 
irritation of them from internal causes, when there is in reality 
nothing presented externally ; — such as flashes of light, ringing 
of the ears, and bitter taste or offensive smells. These sensations 
are caused, through the excitement of the respective nerves of 
sense, by derangement of some internal organ, and most frequently 
of the stomach. 

But my chief object is to show that the most perfect proof of 
power and of design, is to be found in this, that the perceptions or 
ideas arising in the mind, are in correspondence with the qualities 
of external matter; and that, although the manner in which the 
object presented to the outward sense and the idea of it are con- 
nected, must ever be beyond our comprehension, they are, notwith- 
standing, indissolubly united ; and when the object is so presented 
to us, it is attended with the conviction of its real existence— a 
conviction independent of reason and to be regarded as a first law 
of our nature. 

The doctrine of vibrations acting on the nerve of vision, has 
had powerful advocates in our day. But it is quite at variance with 
anatomy, and assumes more than is usually granted to hypotheses. 
It requires that we shall imagine the existence of an ether: and 
that this fluid shall have laws unlike anything of which we have 
experience. It supposes a nervous fluid and tubes ot libres in the 
nerve, to receive and convey these vibrations. It supposes every- 
where motion as the sole means of propagating sensation. 

These opinions have been formed on the misconception that it a 
certain kind or degree of vibration be communicated m any nerve, 
this particular motion must be propagated to the scnsorium, and a 
corresponding idea excited in the mind. For example, it is con- 



92 



OF TOUCH. 



ceived that if the nerve of hearing were placed in the bottom of 
the eye, it would be impressed with the vibration proper to light, 
and that this being conveyed to the brain, the sensation of light or 
colours would result — All which is contrary to fact. 

Nor can I be satisfied that light and colours shall result from 
vibrations which shall vary "from four hundred and fifty-eight 
millions of millions to seven hundred and twenty-seven millions 
of millions in a second," when I find that a fine needle pricking 
the retina will produce brilliant light, and that the pressure of the 
finger on the ball of the eve will gve rise to all the colours of the 
rainbow ! 

There is a condition of the percipient or sentient principle, of 
the brain and nerves, as well as of the organ of sense, conforming 
to the impression to be made : a condition which corresponds 
with the qualities of matter. The several organs of sense may be 
compared to so many instruments, which the philosopher applies 
to distinguish the several qualities of the body which he investigates. 
The different properties of that body are not communicable through 
anyone instrument; and so in the use of the senses, each organ 
is provided for receiving a particular influence, and no other. 

How ever mortifying it may be to acknowledge ignorance, varia- 
tion of motion in a body cannot be admitted as the cause of sensa- 
tion universally ; nor, as I said, can we comprehend anything of 
the manner in which the nerves are affected; certainly we know 
nothing of the manner in w hich sensation is propagated or the 
mind ultimately influenced. But there is a very pleasing view of 
the subject, notwithstanding; which is to observe the correspon- 
dence of the mind (through a series of organic parts) with the 
external world, or with the condition and qualities of matter: 
than which nothing can convey a more sublime idea of Power, 
and of the system or unity of organic and inorganic creations. 

Returning to the consideration of the sensibility of the skin and 
the sense of touch, this property is as distinct an endowment as 
that which belongs to the eye. It is neither inferior nor more 
common. It is not consequent upon the mere exposure of the deli- 
cate surface of the animal body. It is a distinct sense, the organ of 
which is seated in the skin ; and it is necessary that this organ 
of sense should be extended widely over the surface of the body. 
Yet the nerves are as appropriate and distinct as if they were 
gathered into one trunk, such as we find them to be in the organs 
of vision and hearing. 

Although the portion of nervous matter on which the sensation 
and perception of touch depend, be necessarily extended in its sen- 
tient extremities over the whole exterior surface of the body, it is 
very much concentrated towards the brain: and it is there appro- 
priated, in the same manner as the nerves of vision and of hear- 
ing, to its peculiar function of raising corresponding perceptions 
in the mind. 



ORGAN OF TOUCH. 93 

Perhaps this will be better understood from the fan-that a 
certain large portion of the skin may be the seat of excruciaUn* 

seat of that pain, will be altogether insensible to cutting, burning, 
or any mode of destruction ! « I have no feeling in all fne side of 
my face, and i is dead; yet surely it cannot be dead, sino 
a constant pricking pain in it." Such were the word, of a young 
woman whose disease was at the root of the nerve of sensibi itj 
near the brain* The disease destroyed the function f this aerve 
ot the head, as to its property of conveying sensation from th« 
tenor : and substituted that morbid impression on the trunk which 
was referred to the tactile extremities. 

If we use the term common sensibility, we can do so only in refer- 
ence of touch, as it is the sense that is most necessarv to animal ex- 
istence, and as it is enjoyed by all animals from the lowest to the' 
highest in the chain of existence. 

While this sense is distinct from the others, it is the most impor- 
tant of all; since through it alone some animals possess the consci- 
ousness of existence; and to those that enjoy many organs of sense, 
that of touch, as we shall presently show, is necessary to the lull de- 
velopement of the powers of all the other organs. 



OF THE ORGAN OF TOUCH. 



Touch is that peculiar sensibility which gives the consciousness of 
the resistance of external matter, and makes us acquainted with the 
hardness, smoothness, roughness, size, and form of bodies. It ena- 
bles us to distinguish what is external from what belongs to us ; and 
while it informs us of the geometrical qualities of bodies, we must 
refer to this sense also our judgment of distance, of motion, of num- 
ber, and of time. 

Presuming that the sense of touch is exercised by means of a com- 
plex apparatus — by a combination of the consciousness of the action 
of the muscles with the sensibility of the proper nerves of touch, we 
shall, in the first place, examine in what respect the organization re- 
sembles that of the other senses. 

We have said before that, on the most minute examination of the 
extremity of a nerve, no appropriate structure can he detected : ami 
that the nerves expanded on the organs of sense appear every where 
the same, — soft, pulpy, prepared for impression, and so distributed 
that the impression shall reach them. What is termed the structure 
of the organs of sense, is that apparatus by which the external im- 
pression is conveyed inwards, and by which its force is concentrated 
on the extremity of the nerve. The mechanism by which tho* 
ternal organs are suited to their offices, is highly interesting : it Ben i J 



See Papers by the author in the Philosophical Transactions. 

9* 



94 



ORG AX CF TOUCH. 



to show (in a way that is level to our comprehension, as most resem- 
bling things of human contrivance) the design with which the fabric 
is constructed. Thus, the eye is so seated and so formed as to em- 
brace the greatest possible field of vision. We can understand the 
happy effects of the convexity of the transparent cornea, the influence 
of three humours of various densities acting like an achromatic tele- 
scope; we can admire the precision with which the rays of light are 
concentrated on the retina, and the beautiful provision for enlarging 
or diminishing the pencil of light, in proportion to its intensity: but 
all this explains nothing, in respect to the perception that is excited 
in the mind by the impulse on the extremity of the nerve. 

In like manner, in the complex apparatus of the car, we see how 
this organ is formed with reference to a double course of impres- 
sions, as they come through the solids or through the body, and as 
they come through the atmosphere. We comprehend how the undu- 
lations and vibrations of the air are collected and concentrated ; how 
they are directed, through the intricate passages of the bone, to a 
fluid in which the nerve of hearing is suspended; and we see how, 
at last, that nerve is moved. But we can comprehend nothing more 
from the study of the external organ of hearing. 

The illustration is equally clear in reference to the organ of smell- 
ing, or of taste. There is nothing in the nerve itself, either of the 
nose or of the tongue, which can explain why it is susceptible of the 
particular impression. For these reasons, we are prepared to ex- 
pect very little complexity in the organ of touch, and to believe that 
the peculiarity of the sense consists more in the property bestowed 
on the nerve, than in the mechanical adaptation of the exterior organ. 

OF THE CUTICLE. 

The cuticle or epidermis covers the true skin, excludes the air, 
limits the perspiration, and in some degree regulates the heat of the 
body. It is a dead or insensible covering; it guards from contact 
the true vascular surface of the skin; and in this manner, it often 
prevents the communication of infection. We are most familiar 
with it as that scarf skin which scales off after fevers, or by the use 
of the flesh-brush, or by the friction of the clothes ; for it is continu- 
ally separating in thin scales, whilst it is as regularly formed anew 
by the vascular surface below. The condition of this covering is 
intimately connected with the organ of touch. The habit of consi- 
dering things as produced accidentally, has induced some anatomists 
to believe that the cuticle is formed by the hardening of the true 
skin. The fact, however, that the cuticle is perfect in the new-born 
infant, and that even then it is thickest on the hands and feet, should 
have shown that, like everything in the animal structure, it partici- 
pates in the great design. 



ORGAN' OF TOUCH. 



05 



. Tne cuticle is the organ of touch in this resj ect, that it is tl e me- 
dium through which the external impression is conveyed to ihe 
nerves of touch ; and the manner in which this is accomplished is 
not without interest. The extremities of the fingers exhibit a., 
provisions for the exercise of this sense. The nails give support to 
the fingers ; they are formed broad and shield-like,* in order to sus- 
tain the elastic cushion which forms their extremity ; and the fulness 
and elasticity of the ends of the fingers adapt them admirably 1< r 
touch. But on a nearer inspection, we see a more particular pro- 
vision in the points of the fingers. Wherever the sense of feeliDg ifl 
most exquisite, there are minute spiral ridges of cuticle. Thes 
have, corresponding with them, depressed lines on the inner surl 
of the cuticle; and these again give lodgement to a soft j ulpy n - 
ter, in which lie the extremities of the sentient nerves. There the 
nerves are sufficiently protected, while they are exposed to impres- 
sions through the elastic cuticle, and thus give the sense of touch. — 
The organization is simple, yet it is in strict analogy with the other 
organs of sense. 

Every one must have observed a tendency in the cuticle to be- 
come thickened and stronger by pressure and friction. If the pres- 
sure be partial and severe, the action of the true skin is too much 
excited, fluid is thrown out, and the cuticle is raised in a blister, If 
it be still partial, but more gradually applied, a corn is formed. If, 
how T ever, the general surface of the palms or soles be exposed to 
pressure, the cuticle thickens, until it becomes a defence like a glove 
or a shoe. Now, what is most to be admired in this thickening oi 
the cuticle is, that the sense of touch is not lost, or indeed diminished, 
certainly not at all in proportion to the protection afibrded by the 
thickened skin. 

The thickened cuticle partakes of the structure of the hoofs of ani- 
mals: and we shall now attend to the nature of the hoof, as the best 
possible illustration of the manner in which the sensibility of the skin 
is in a due degree preserved whilst the surface is guarded. 

The human nail is a continuation of the cuticle, and the hoof of an 
animal belongs to the same class of parts. In observing the man- 
ner in which the nerves enter the hoof, we have, in fact, a n.; _ - 
fied view of that which exists, but is only more minute and delicate, 
in the fingers. We may take the horse's foot as the example.— 
When the crust or hoof, which is insensible, is separated from the 
living part, we see small villi hanging from the vascular surface, and 
which have been withdrawn from the crust; looking to the insideol 
the crust, we perceive the pores from which these villi have I .■ 
pulled. These processes of the living surface are not merely ex- 
tremities of nerves; they consist of the nerves and the neccssari ac- 
companiments of membrane and blood-vessels, on a very minute 



* Unguis scui'forruis. 



96 



ORGAN OF TOUCH. 



scale. For it must be remembered that nerves can perform no func- 
tion unless supplied with blood, all qualities of life being supported 
through the circulating blood. These nerves, so prolonged into the 
hoof, receive the vibrations of that body. By this means the horse 
is sensible to the motion and pressure of its foot, or to its percussion 
against the ground ; and without this provision, there would be a 
certain imperfection in the limb. 

In a former part of this treatise I have shown by what curious 
mechanism the horse's foot is made yielding and elastic, for the pur- 
pose of bearing the percussion against the ground. But in made 
roads, and with the imperfections of shoeing, the pressure and con- 
cussion are too severe and too incessant; so that the protecting sen- 
sibility of the foot is converted into a source of pain from the inflam- 
mation which arises, and the horse is thus "foundered." There is a 
remedy for this condition in dividing the nerve; the consequence of 
which operation is, that the horse, instead of moving with timid 
steps, puts out his feet freely, and the lameness is cured. If, however, 
we were to receive the statement thus barely, the fact would mili- 
tate against our conclusion that mechanical provision and sensibility 
go together, being equally necessary to the perfection of the instru- 
ment. We must take into consideration this leading fact, that pres- 
sure against the sole and crust is necessary to the play of the foot 
and to its perfection. When this part becomes inflamed, the animal 
does not put its foot freely down, nor does it bear its weight upon the 
hoof so as to bring all the parts into action ; hence contraction is 
produced, the most common defect of the horse's hoof. When the 
animal is relieved from pain by the division of the nerve, it uses the 
foot freely, and use restores all the natural actions of this fine piece 
of mechanism. It is obvious, however, that there is a certain defect; 
the horse has lost his natural protection, and must now be indebted 
to the care of his rider. It has not only lost the pain which should 
guard against over exertion, but the feeling of the ground, which is 
necessary to his being perfectly safe as a roadster. 

The teeth are provided with sensibility much in the same manner 
as the hoof of the horse is; for although the bone and enamel have 
no sensibility, yet a branch of a sensible nerve (the fifth) enters into 
the cavity of every tooth, and the vibration being communicated 
through the tooth to the nerve, the smallest grain is felt between the 
teeth. 

But, to return to the human hand ; in the fingers and palm of a 
man who uses the fore-hammer, the cuticle is thickened in a re- 
markable manner ; the lines, how T ever, become deeper, and the villi 
longer; which, joined to the aptitude of the cuticle to convey the 
impression to those included nerves, leaves him in possession of the 
sense of touch in a very high degree. 

In the foot of the ostrich we may have a magnified view of the 
thickened cuticle and the lengthened nerves. The outer skin almost 



ORG AX OF TOUCH. [>' 

equals in thickness the hoof of the solidungida, and w hen it is sepa- 
rated from the sensible sole, the villi, or papilla?, having in them the 
sensible nerves, are withdrawn, leaving corresponding foramina or 
pores in the sole. We perceive that if the object had been merely to 
cover and protect the foot, it would have been sufficient to have in- 
vested it with a succession of solid and dead layers of cuticle. This 
would have been the case had the cuticle been merelv thickened by 
pressure, and had there been no design to make a provision adapted 
in all respects to the habits of the bird. 

Such, then, is the structure of the organ of touch: obvious in the 
extremities of the fingers ; magnified in the foot of the horse or of 
the ostrich ; and existing even in the delicate skin of the lips. 

I have casually noticed that increased vascularity is always an ac- 
companiment of nerves, and necessary to the sensibility of a part. 
In the museum of the College of Surgeons we see that Mr. Hunter 
had taken the pains to demonstrate this, by the injection of the blood- 
vessels of a slug. Although fluid was injected from its heart, the 
blush from the vermilion extends over its foot; the foot, in these gas- 
teropoda, being the whole lower flat surface on which the animal 
creeps. This surface is also the organ of touch, by which it feels 
and directs its motions. It is on the same principle, if we may com- 
pare such things, that we explain the rosy-tipped fingers and the ruby 
lips, which imply fine sensibility combined with high vascularity. 

Having described the relation of the cuticle to the nerves of touch, 
w 7 e may take notice of another quality, in its roughness, and of the 
advantages accruing from this. In the first place, as to the sul»< t- 
viency of this quality to feeling, we must be sensible that in touching 
a finely polished surface the organ is but imperfectly exercised, as 
compared with its condition when we touch or grasp a rough ana* 
irregular body. Had the cuticle been finely polished on its surface 
it would have been but ill suited to touch: but, on the contrary, it 
has a very peculiar roughness which adapts it to feeling. A proi i- 
sion for friction, as opposed to smoothness, is a necessary quality 0\ 
some parts of the skin. The roughness of the cuticle has the adv; n- 
tage of giving us a firmer grasp, and a steadier footing. Nothing 
is so little apt to slip as the thickened cuticle of the hand or toot. In 
the hoofs of animals, as might be expected, this structure is further 
developed. The chamois or goat steps securely on the ledges of 
rocks and at great heights, where it would seem impossible to ding. 
On the pads or cushions of the cat, the cuticle is rough and granu- 
lar; and in the foot of the squirrel, indeed of all animals which 
climb, those pads covered with the peculiar texture oi the cuticle, 
give securitv in descending, as their claws enable them to climb. 

In concluding this section, we perceive that the organ of toucn 
consists of nerves appropriated to receive the impressions oi boo ! 
capable of affording resistance. Fine filaments of those nerves, 
wrapt up in delicate membrane with their accompanying art. i . * 



08 



OF THE MUSCULAR SENSE. 



and veins, project from the true skin into corresponding grooves or 
foramina of the cuticle. They are not absolutely in contact with 
the cuticle, but are surrounded with a semi-fluid matter. By this 
fluid and by the cuticle they are protected, at the same time that 
they are sensible to the pressure made on the surface, and to cutting, 
pricking, and heat.* But this capacity, we repeat, is not owing, 
strictly speaking, to anything in the structure of the organ, but to the 
appropriation of the nerves to this class of sensations. 



CHAPTER IX. 

OF THE MUSCULAR SENSE. 

OF THE SENSIBILITY OF THE INFANT TO IMPRESSIONS, AND THE GRADUAL 
IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSE OF TOUCH. 

A notion prevails that the young of animals are directed by in- 
stinct, but that there is an exception in regard to the human olF- 
spring: that in the child we have to trace the gradual dawn and 
progressive improvement of reason. This is not quite true; we 
doubt whether the body would ever be exercised under the influence 
of reason alone, and if it were not first directed by sensibility which 
are innate or instinctive. 

The sensibilities and the motions of the lips and tongue are per- 
fect from the beginning: and the dread of falling is shown in the 
young infant long before it can have had experience of violence of 
any kind. 

The hand, which is to become the instrument for perfecting the 
other senses and developing the endowments of the mind itself, is in 
the infant absolutely powerless. Pain is poetically described as that 
power into whose " iron grasp" we are consigned, to be introduced 
to a material world ; now, although the infant is capable of an ex- 
pression of pain, which cannot be misunderstood and is the same 
which accompanies all painful impressions during the whole life, yet 
it is unconscious of the part of the body which suffers. We have 
again recourse to the surgeon's experience. There occur certain 

• It is a curious confirmation of the fact, that the cutaneous nerve is adapted to 
receive impressions from the varieties of temperature, that when disease takes place 
in the centre of the trunk of a nerve, or when the nerve is surrounded with dis- 
eased parts, the sensation of burning 1 accompanies the pain ; and the patient refers 
this to the part of the skin to which the extreme branch of the nerve is distributed. 
By a burning sensation in the sole of the foot, I have been directed to the disease 
seated in the centre of the thigh. 



OF THE MUSCULAR SENSE. 



99 



congenital imperfections which require an operation at this early 
stage of life; but the infant makes no direct effort with its band to 
repel the instrument, or to disturb the dressing, as it will at a period 
somewhat later. 

The lips and tongue are first exercised ; the next motion is to put 
the hand to the mouth, in order to suck it: and no sooner 
fingers capable of grasping, than whatever they hold is carrie to 
the mouth. So that the sensibility to touch in the lips and ton 
and their motions, are the first inlets to knowledge; and the us 
the hand is a later acquirement. 

The knowledge of external bodies as distinguished from ourselves, 
cannot be acquired until the organs of touch in the hand have be- 
come familiar with our own limbs; we cannot be supposed capable 
of exploring anything by the motion of the hand, or of judging of 
the form or tangible qualities of an object pressed against the skin, 
before we have a knowledge of our own body as distinguished from 
things external to us. 

The first office of the hand, then, is to exercise the sensibility of 
the mouth : and the infant as certainly questions the reality of thi 
by that test, as the dog does by its acute sense of smelling. In the 
infant, the sense of the lips and tongue is resigned only in favour of 
the sense of vision, when that sense has improved and offers a greater 
gratification, and a better means of judging of the qualities of bodies. 
The hand very slowly acquires the sense of touch, and many inef- 
fectual efforts are seen in the arms and fingers of the child before the 
direction of objects or their distance is ascertained. Gradually the 
length of the arm, and the extent of its motions become the measure 
of distance, of form, of relation, and perhaps of time. 

Next in importance to the sensibility of the mouth, we may con- 
template that sense which is early exhibited in the infant, — the terror 
of falling. The nurse will tell us that the infant lies composed while 
she carries it in her arms up stairs; but that it is agitated in carry- 
ing it down. If an infant be laid upon the arms and dandled up and 
down, its body and limbs will be at rest whilst it is raised ; but they 
will struggle and make an effort as it descends. There is here the 
indication of a sense, an innate feeling of danger, the influence of 
which we may perceive when the child first attempts to stand or 
run. When the child is set upon its feet, and the nurse's arms form 
a hoop around it without touching it, it slowly learns to balance itsell 
and stand; but under a considerable apprehension. Presently, it 
will stand at such a distance from the nurse's knee, that it it should 
lose its balance, it can throw itself for protection into her lap. In 
these its first attempts to use its muscular frame, it is directed by an 
apprehension which cannot as yet be attributed to experience, ay 
degrees it acquires the knowledge of the measure of its arm. the re- 
lative distance to which it can reach, and the power o\ its mus< les. 
Children, therefore, are cowardly by instinct: they show an appro- 



100 



OF THE MUSCULAR SSJTSE. 



hension of falling ; and we may gradually trace the efforts which 
they make, under the guidance of this sensibility, to perfect the mus- 
cular sense. In the mean time, we perceive how instinct and rea- 
son are combined in early infancy : how necessary the first is to 
existence; how it is subservient to reason: and how it yields to the 
progress of reason, until it becomes so obscured that we can hardly 
discern its influence. 

When treating of the senses, and showing how one organ profits 
by the exercise of the other, and how each is indebted to that of 
touch, I was led to observe that the sensibility of the skin is the most 
dependent of all on the exercise of another quality. Without a sense 
of muscular action or a consciousness of the degree of effort made, 
the proper sense of touch could hardly be an inlet to knowledge at 
all. I am now to show that the motion of the hand and lingers, and 
the sense or consciousness of their action, must be combined with 
the sense of touch, properly so called, before we can ascribe to it 
the influence which it possesses over the other organs. 

In my general course of lectures on anatomy, I ventured on this 
explanation from the commencement; much doubting, however, the 
correctness of my reasoning, from seeing that the great authorities 
on this subject made no account of the knowledge derived from the 
motions of our own frame. I called this consciousness of muscular 
exertion a sixth sense, considering it as essential to the exercise of 
the sense of touch. I can now refer, in confirmation of this view, 
*to the works of philosophers who have been educated to medicine; 
and to whom the necessity of the combination of the two faculties 
had suggested itself as it had to me.* Those distinctions were con- 
nected with my inquiries into the functions of the nervous system, 
and in some measure directed them.f 

* Sec Dr. Brown's Lectures on Moral Philosophy. 

f It was this conviction — that we are sensihle of the action of the muscles, which 
led me to the investigation of their nerves; first, by anatomy, and then by experi- 
ment. I was finally enabled to show that the muscles had two classes of nerves — 
that on exciting one of these, the muscle contracted ; that on exciting' the other, no 
action took place. The nerve which had no power was found to be a nerve of 
sensation : and thus, it was proved that there is a nervous circle connecting- the 
muscles with the brain : that one nerve is not capable of transmitting" what is called 
the nervous spirits, in two different directions at one instant of time ; but that for 
the regulation of the muscles, there is a nerve of sensibility to convey the nervous 
influence from the muscles towards the sensorium, as well as a nerve of action 
for conveying the mandate of the will to the muscles. In their distribution through 
the body, the nerves which possess these two distinct powers are wrapped up, or, 
as it were, woven together in the same sheath ; and tbey present to the eye the 
appearance of one nerve. It was only by examining the nerves at their roots, that 
is, where they arise from different tracts of the brain and spinal marrow, and be- 
fore they have coalesced, that I succeeded in demonstrating their distinct functions. 
In the face, the nerve of motion passes by a circuitous course, apart from the nerve 
of sensation, to be distributed in the muscles ; and therefore the distinct charac- 
ters of these nerves were more easily proved by experiment than in any other part 
of the body. Seethe Philosophical Transactions on the " Nervous Circle which 
connects the Voluntary Muscles with the Brain," and the " Nervous System." 4to. 
Longman. 



OF THE MUSCULAR SEXSE. 



10J 



The Abbe Nollet, after extolling the sense of touch as superior to 
all the other senses, and as deserving to be considered the genus i.u- 
der which the others should be included as subordinate specu r, 
makes this remark — "Besides, it has this advantage over them, to 
be at the same time both active and passive ; for it not only puts it 
in our power to judge of what makes an impression upon us, but 
likewise of what resists our impulsions." The mistake here lies in 
giving to the nerves of touch a property which must belong to the 
actions of muscles. So it is affirmed by physiologists, as I have al- 
ready had occasion to state, that the sense of touch differs from the 
other senses by this circumstance — that an effort is propagated to- 
wards it, as well as a sensation received from it. This confusion 
obviously arises from considering the muscular agency, which is di- 
rected by the will during the exercise of touch, as belonging to the 
nerve of touch properly. We proceed to show how the sense of 
motion and that of touch are necessarily combined. 

When a blind man, or a man with his eyes shut, stands upright, 
neither leaning upon, nor touching aught; by what means is it that 
he maintains the erect position? The symmetry of his body is not 
the cause ; the statue of the finest proportion must be soldered to 
its pedestal, or the wind will cast it down. How is it, then, that a 
man sustains the perpendicular posture, or inclines in due degree to- 
wards the winds that blow upon him ! It is obvious that he has a 
sense by which he knows the inclination of his body, and that he 
has a ready aptitude to adjust it, and to correct any deviation from 
the perpendicular. What sense then is this? for he touches not Inn-, 
and sees nothing; there is no organ of sense hitherto observed 
which can serve him, or in any degree aid him. Is it not that sense 
which is exhibited so early in the infant, in the fear of falling I Is 
it not the full developement of that property which was early >h..\vn 
in the struggle of the infant while it yet lay in the nurse's arms 1 
It can only be bv the adjustment of muscles that the limbs are 
stiffened, the body firmly balanced and kept erect. There is no 
other source of knowledge, but a sense of the degree of exertion in 
in his muscular frame, bv which a man can know the position of 
his body and limbs, while he has no point of vision to direct his 
efforts, or the contact of any external body. In truth, we stand by 
so fine an exercise of this power, and the muscles are, from habit, 
directed with so much precision and with an cilort so slight, that 
we do not know how we stand. But if we attempt to walk on a 
narrow ledge, or stand in a situation where we arc in dangers 
falling, or rest on one foot, we become then subject to apprehension . 
the actions of the muscles are, as it were, magnified and demonstra- 
tive of the degree in which they are excited. ... 

We are sensible of the position of our limbs; we know thai lh< 
arms hang by the sides; or that they arc raised and hrld .... ; 
although we touch nothing and see nothing. It must be a propertj 
b 10 



102 



OF THE MUSCULAR SENSE. 



internal to the frame by which we know this position of the mem- 
bers of our body : and what can this be but a consciousness of the 
degree of action and the adjustment of the muscles 1 At one time, 
I entertained a doubt whether this proceeded from a knowledge of 
the condition of the muscles or from a consciousness of the degree 
of effort which was directed to them in volition. It was with a 
view to elucidate this, that I made the observations which terminated 
in the discovery that every muscle had two nerves — one for sensa- 
tion, and one to convey the mandate of the will and direct its action. 
I had reasoned in this manner — we awake with a knowledge of the 
position of our limbs: this cannot be from a recollection of the ac- 
tion which placed them where they are; it must, therefore, be a 
consciousness of their present condition. When a person in these 
circumstances moves, he has a determined object ; and he must be 
conscious of a previous condition before he can desire a change or 
direct a movement. 

After a limb has been removed by the surgeon, the person still 
feels pain, and heat, and cold in it. Urging a patient to remove 
who lias lost his limb, I have seen him catch at the limb to guard it, 
forgetful that it was removed ; and long after his loss, he experiences 
a sensation not only as if the limb remained, but as if it were placed 
or 1) anging in a particular position or posture. I have asked a patient 
— " Where do you feel your arm now ?" and he has said, " I feel it as 
if it lay across my breast," or that it is " lying by my side." It seems 
also to change with the change of posture of the body. These are 
additional proofs of a muscular sense; that there is an internal sen- 
sibility corresponding with the changing condition of the muscles ; 
and that as the sensations of an organ of sense remain after the 
destruction of the outward organ, so here a deceptious sensibility to 
the condition of the muscles, as well as to the condition of the skin, 
is felt after the removal of the limb. 

By such arguments I have been in the habit of showing that we 
possess a muscular sense, and that without it we could have no gui- 
dance of the frame. We could not command our muscles in stand- 
ing, far less in walking, leaping, or running, had we not a percep- 
tion of the condition of the muscles previous to the exercise of the 
will. And as for the hand, it is not more the freedom of its action 
which constitutes its perfection, than the knowledge which we have 
of these motions, and our consequent ability to direct it with the ut- 
most precision. 

The necessity for the combination of two distinct properties of 
the nervous system in the sense of touch becomes more obvious if 
we examine their operation in another but analogous organ ; for 
example, in the palpa or tentacula of the lower animals. These 
animals use those instruments to grope their way: and they consist 
of a rigid tube containing a pulpy matter, in which there is a branch 
of nerve that possesses in an exquisite degree the sense of touch. 



OF THE MUSCULAR SEXSE. In;; 

Now when this instrument touches a body and the vibration rum 
along the pulp of the nerve, the animal can be sensible only of an 
obstruction; but where is that obstruction, and how is the creature'a 
progress to be directed to avoid it? We must acknowledge that 
the instrument moves about and feels on all sides, and that it is the 
action ot the muscles moving this projecting instrument, and the 
sense ot their activity, which convey the knowledge of the place or 
direction of the obstructing body. It appears, therefore, that even 
m the very lowest creatures the sense of touch implies the com- 
parison of two distinct senses. 

That insects have the most exquisite organs of sense must be 
allowed: but we do not reflect on the extraordinary accuracy with 
which they measure distance; which is an adaptation of the muscu- 
lar exertion to the sense of vision. The spider which I have 
already alluded to in a former chapter— the aranea scenica, when 
about to leap, elevates itself upon its fore legs, and lifting its head, 
seems to survey the spot before it jumps. When this insect spies a 
small gnat or fly upon the wall, it creeps very gently towards it, 
with short steps, till it comes within a proper distance, and then it 
springs suddenly like a tiger. It will jump two feet to seize upon a 
bee.* 

We have a more curious instance of the precision of eye and the 
adaptation of muscular action in the chcetodon rostratus.] This fish 
inhabits the Indian rivers, and lives on the smaller aquatic flies. 
When it observes a fly alighted on a twig or flying near (for it can 
shoot them on the wing) it darts a drop of water with so steady an 
aim as to bring the fly down into the water, when it falls an easy prey, 
These fishes are kept in large vases for amusement, and if a fly be 
presented on the end of a twig, they will shoot at it with surprising 
accuracy. In its natural .state it will hit a fly at the distance of 
from three to six feet. The zeus insidiatorX has also the power of 
forming its mouth into a tube and squirting at flies so as to encum- 
ber their wings and bring them to the surface of the water. Whe- 
ther led to admire the wonderful power of instinct in these inferior 
creatures, or the property acquired by our own eye, we must ac- 
knowledge a compound operation.§ 

The impression of odours on the nerve of smelling is exactly 
what some would have us to believe the effect of light is on the 
nerve of vision; and yet, that impression on the nerve of vision is 
sufficient, in their opinion, to inform us of all that we know through 
the eye. Now of the direction and distance from which odours 
come, we are quite ignorant, until by turning the head and directing 

*Kirby. f Chcetodon, a genus of the Acanthoptcrygii. 
* Belonging to another genus of the same order. 

§ In these instances a difficulty will readily occur to the reader ; how docs the 
fish judge of position, since the rays of light are refracted at the surface of the 
water > Does instinct enable it to do this, or is it by experience ? 



104 



OF THE MUSCULAR SENSE. 



the nostrils, and moving this way and that, we make comparison, 
and discover on which side the smell is strongest on the sense. We 
can judge of the direction of sounds without turning the head, be- 
cause the strength of vibration is unequal on the two sides of the 
head, and a comparison is made of the two impressions. But when 
a person is deaf of one ear the operation is difficult ; he is often 
mistaken as to the direction of sounds, and he has more necessity 
to turn the head and to compare the position of the tube of the ear 
with the strength of the impressions. Accordingly, in mixed com- 
pany, where there are many speakers, he appears positively deaf, 
from the impossibility of distinguishing minutely the direction of 
sounds. 

The last proof of the necessity of the combination of the muscu- 
lar sense with the sense of contact will be conclusive. The fol- 
lowing is not a solitary instance : — 

A mother while nursing her infant was seized with a paralysis, 
attended by the loss of power on one side of her body, and the loss 
of sensibility on the other side. The surprising, and, indeed, the 
alarming circumstance here was, that she could hold her child to 
her bosom with the arm which possessed muscular power, but only 
as long as she looked at the infant. If surrounding objects with- 
drew her attention from the state of her arm, the flexor muscles 
gradually relaxed and the child was in danger of falling. The de- 
tails of the case do not belong to our present inquiry ; but we see 
here, first, that there are two properties in the arm ; which is shown 
by the loss of the one and the continuance of the other; secondly, 
that these properties exist through different conditions of the nervous 
system ; and, thirdly, we perceive how ineffectual to the exercise of 
the limbs is the continuance of the muscular power, without the 
sensibility which should accompany and direct it. 

The property in the hand of ascertaining the distance, the size, 
the weight, the form, the hardness and softness, the roughness or 
smoothness of objects results from the combined perception — 
through the sensibility of the proper organ of touch and the motion 
of the arm, hand, and fingers. But the motion, of the fingers is 
especially necessary to the sense of touch ; they bend, extend, or 
expand, moving in all directions like palpa, with the advantage of 
embracing the object, and feeling it on all its surfaces ; sensible to 
its solidity and to its resistance when grasped ; moving round it and 
gliding over its surface, and, therefore, feeling every asperity. 

THE PLEASURES ARISING FROM THE MUSCULAR SENSE. 

The exercise of the muscular frame is the source of much of the 
knowledge which is usually supposed to be obtained through the or- 
gans of sense; and to this source, also, we must trace some of our 
chief enjoyments. We may, indeed, affirm that it is benevolently 



OF THE MUSCULAR SENSE. 



105 



provided that vigorous circulation, and, therefore, the healthful con- 
dition both of the mind and the body, shall result from muscular 
exertion and the alternation of activity and repose. 

The pleasure which arises from the activity of the body is also 
attended by gratification from the exercise of a species of power- 
as in mere dexterity, successful pursuit in the field, or the accom- 
plishment of some work of art. This activity is followed by weari- 
ness and a desire for rest, and although unattended with any descri- 
bable pleasure or local sensation, there is diffused through every 
part of the frame, after fatigue and whilst the active powers 
sinking into repose, a feeling almost voluptuous. To this succeeds 
the impatience of rest, and thus we are urged to the alternations 
which are necessary to health, and invited on from stage to stage of 
our existence. 

We owe other enjoyments to the muscular sense. It w«»uld ap- 
pear that in modern times we know comparatively little of tin- 
pleasures arising from motion. The Greeks, and even the Romans, 
studied elegance of attitude and movement. Their apparel admit- 
ted of it, and their exercises and games must have led to it. Their 
dances -were not the result of mere exuberance of spirits and ac- 
tivity; they studied harmony in the motion of the body and limbs, 
and majesty of gait. Their dances consisted more of the unfold- 
ing of the arms than of the play of their feet, — " Their arms su- 
blime that floated on the air." The Pyrrhic dances were elegant 
movements, joined to the attitudes of combat, and performed in 
correct coincidence with the expression of the music. The specta- 
tors in their theatres must have had very different associations from 
ours, to account for the national enthusiasm arising from music and 
their rage excited by a mere error in the time. 

This reminds usthat the divisions in music in some degree be- 
long to the muscular sense. A man will put down his statV in regu- 
lated time, and the sound of his steps will fall into a measure, in 1 
common walk. A boy striking the railing in mere wantonness, will 
do it with a regular succession of blows. This disposition of the 
muscular frame to put itself into motion with an accordance to time 
is the source of much that is pleasing in music, and aids the effect 
of melody. There is thus established the closest connexion be- 
tween the enjoyments of the sense of hearing and the exercise 
the muscular sense.* 

* To learn bow much the enjoyment of the sense of vision belongs to motion, 
see the "Additional Illustrations, " at the end of the volume. 



10* 



106 



THE HAND NOT THE 



CHAPTER X. 

THE HAND NOT THE SOURCE OF INGENUITY OR CONTRIVANCE, NOR CON- 
SEQUENTLY OF man's SUPERIORITY. 

Seeing the perfection of the hand, we can hardly be surprised 
that some philosophers should have entertained the opinion with 
Anaxagoras, that the superiority of man is owing to his hand. We 
have seen that the system of bones, muscles, and nerves of this 
extremity is suited to every form and condition of vertebratcd ani- 
mals ; and we must confess that it is in the human hand that we 
have the consummation of all perfection as an instrument. This, 
we perceive, consists in its power, which is a combination of 
strength with variety and extent of motion ; we see it in the forms, 
relations and sensibility of the lingers and thumb ; in the provisions 
for holding, pulling, spinning, weaving, and constructing ; properties 
which may be found in other animals, but which are combined to 
form this more perfect instrument. ' 

In these provisions the instrument corresponds with the superior 
mental capacities, the hand being capable of executing whatever 
man's ingenuity suggests. Nevertheless, the possession of the ready 
instrument is not the cause of the superiority of man, nor is its apt- 
ness the measure of his attainments. So that we rather say with 
Galen — that man had hands given to him, because he was the wisest 
creature, than to ascribe his superiority and knowledge to the use 
of his hands.* 

This question has arisen from observing the perfect correspon- 
dence between the propensities of animals and their forms and out- 
ward organization. When we see a heron standing by the water 
side, still as a gray stone, and hardly distinguishable from it, we 
may ascribe this habit to the acquired use of its feet, constructed for 
wading, and to its long bill and flexible neck ; for the neck and bill 
are as much suited to its wants, as the lister is to the fisherman. 
But there is nothing in the configuration of the black bear particu- 
larly adapted to catch fish ; yet he will sit on his hinder extremities 
by the side of a stream, in the morning or evening, like a practised 
fisher ; there he will watch, so motionless as to deceive the eye of the 
Indian, who mistakes him for the burnt trunk of a tree ; and with his 
fore paw he will seize a fish with incredible celerity. The exterior 

• Ita quidem sapientissimum animalium est homo; ita autem et manus sunt organa 
sapienti animali convenientia. Non enim quia manus habuit propterea est sapien- 
tissimum, ut Anaxagoras dicebat: sed quia sapientissimum erat, propter hoc manus 
habuit, ut rectissime censuit Aristoteles. Non enim manus ipsse homines artes do- 
cuerunt, sed ratio. Manus autem ipsx sunt artium organa: sicut lyra, musici, et 
forceps, fabri. 



source of Ingenuity. 



Ki? 



organ is not, in this instance, the cause of the habit or of the pro- 
penalty; and if we see the animal in possession of the instinct with- 
out the appropriate organ, we can the more readilv believe that in 
other examples, the habit exists with the instrument, although not 
through it. 

The canine teeth are not given without the carnivorous appetite, 
nor is the necessity of living by carnage joined to a timid dLns,- 
tion ; but boldness and fierceness, as well as cunning helo n .r 
animal with retractile claws and sharp teeth, and which mw mi 
living animals.* On the other hand, the timid vegetable feeder baa 
not his propensities produced by the erect ears and prominent eyes | 
though his disposition corresponds with them in his suspi- 
and timidity. The boldness of the bison or buffalo may be as gr 
as that of the lion ; but the impulse is different— there "is a direction 
given to him by instinct to strike with his horns: and he will so 
push whether he has horns or no. "The young calf will butt 
against you before he has horns," says Galen : and the Scotch son- 
has it "the putting cow is ay a doddy," that is, the humble cow 
(inermis), although wanting horns, is always the most mischievous. 
When that noble animal, the Brahmin bull, of the Zoological Gar* 
dens, first put his hoof on the sod and smelt the fresh grass after his 
voyage, — placid and easily managed before, he became excited, 
plunged, and stuck his horns into the earth, and ploughed op the 
ground on alternate sides, with a very remarkable precision. This 
was his dangerous play ; just as the dog, in his gambols, worries 
and fights : or the cat, though pleased, puts out its claws. It would, 
indeed, be strange, where all else is perfect, if the instinctive charac- 
ter or disposition of the animal were at variance with its arms or 
instruments. 

But the idea may still be- entertained that the accidental use of 
the organ may conduce to its more frequent exercise and to the pro- 
duction of a corresponding disposition. Such an hypothesis would 
not explain the facts. The late Sir Joseph Banks, in his evening 
conversations, told us that he had seen, what many, perhaps, have 
seen, a chicken catch at a fly whilst the shell stuck to its tail. Sir 
Humphry Davy relates that a friend of his having discovered under 
the burning sand of Ceylon, the eggs of the alligator, lie had the 
curiosity to break one of them; when a young alligator came forth, 
perfect in its motions and in its passions ; for although hatched un- 
der the influence of the sunbeams in the burning sand, it made to- 
wards the water, its proper element: when hindered, it assumed B 
threatening aspect and bit the stick presented to it. As propensitiefl 
to certain motions are implanted in animals, to which their external 



* In some of the quadrumana, the canine teeth arc as long and sharp as those of 
the tiger — but they are in them only instruments of defence, and hare no relation 
to the appetite, or mode of digestion, or internal organization. 



108 INSTINCT OF THE YOUNG ANIMAL. 

organs are subservient, so are passions given as the means of de- 
fence or of obtaining food. But this has been well said seventeen 
hundred years ago. "Take," says Galen, " three eggs, one of an 
eagle, another of a goose, and a third of a viper ; and place them 
favourably for hatching. When the shells are broken, the eaglet 
and the gosling will attempt to fly ; while the young of the viper 
will'coil and twist along the ground. If the experiment be protract- 
ed to a latter period, the eagle will soar to the highest regions of 
the air, the goose betake itself to the marshy pool, and the viper will 
bury itself in the ground." 

When we direct the inquiry to the comparison of man's faculties 
with his outward organization, the subject has increased interest. 
With the possession of an instrument like the hand there must be a 
great part of the organization, which strictly belongs to it, conceal- 
ed. The hand is not a thing appended, or put on, like an additional 
movement in a watch ; but a thousand intricate relations must be 
established throughout the body in connexion with it — such as nerves 
of motion and nerves of sensation ; and there must be an original 
part of the composition of the brain, which shall have relation to 
these new parts, before they can be put in activity. But even with 
all this superadded organization the hand would lie inactive, unless 
there were created a propensity to put it into operation. 

I have been asked by men of the first education and talents 
whether anything really deficient had been discovered in the organs 
of the orang-outang to prevent him from speaking ! The reader 
will give me leave to place this matter correctly before him. In 
speaking, there is first required a certain force of expired air, or an 
action of the muscles of respiration ; in the second place, the vocal 
chords in the top of the wind-pipe must be drawn into accordance 
by their muscles, else no vibration will take place, and no sound 
issue ; thirdly, the open passage of the throat must be expanded, 
contracted, or extended by their numerous muscles, in correspond- 
ence with the condition of the vocal chords or glottis ; and these 
must all sympathise before even a simple sound is produced. But to 
articulate that sound, so that it may become a part of a conventional 
language, there must be added an action of the pharynx, of the 
palate, of the tongue and lips. The exquisite organization for all 
this is not visible in the organs of the voice, as they are called : it 
is to be found in the nerves which combine all these various parts in 
one simultaneous act. The meshes of the spider's-web, or the cor- 
dage of a man-of-war, are few and simple compared with the 
concealed filaments of nerves which move these parts; and if but 
one be wanting, or its tone or action disturbed in the slightest 
degree, every body knows how a man will stand with his mouth 
open, twisting his tongue and lips in vain attempts to utter a word. 

It will now appear that there must be distinct lines of association 
suited to the organs of voice — different to combine them in the bark 



THE SUBJECT ILLUSTRATED. 



10. 



of a dog, in the neighing of a horse, or in the shrill whittle of the 
ape. That there are wide distinctions in the structure of the differ- 
ent classes of animals is most certain; but independently of those 
which are apparent, there are secret and minute varieties in the as- 
sociating cords. The ape, therefore, does not articulate— First, be- 
cause the organs are not perfect to this end. Secondly, because the 
nerves do not associate these organs in that variety of action which 
is necessary to speech. And, lastly, were all the exterior apparatus 
perfect, there is no impulse to that act of speaking. 

Now I hope it appears, from this enumeration of parts, that the 
main difference lies in the internal faculty or propensity. As soon 
as a child can distinguish and admire, then are its features in action) 
its voice begins to be modified into a variety of sounds; these art- 
taken up and repeated by the nurse, and already a sort of conven- 
tion is established between them. We cannot, therefore, doubt that 
a propensity is created in correspondence with the outward organs, 
and without which they would be useless appendages. The aptness 
of the instrument or external organ will undoubtedly improve the 
faculty, just as we find that giving freedom to the expression of pas* 
sion adds force to the emotion in the mind. 

One cannot but reflect here on that grand revolution which took 
place when the language, till then limited to its proper organ, had it- 
representation in the work of the hand. Now that a man of mean 
estate can have a library of more intrinsic value than that of ( !icer< . 
when the sentiments of past ages are as familiar as those of the pre - 
sent, and the knowledge of different empires is transmitted and com- 
mon to all, we cannot expect to have our sages followed, as of old, 
by their five thousand scholars. Nations will not now record their 
acts by building pyramids, nor consecrate temples and raise statues, 
once the only means of perpetuating great deeds or extraordinary 
virtues. It is in vain that our artists complain that patronage is 
withheld : for the ingenuity of the hand has at length subdued the 
arts of design— printing has made all other records barbarous, and 
great men build for themselves a " livelong monument." 

Buffon has attempted to convey to us the mode in which know- 
ledge may have been acquired by watching (in fancy) the new !\ 
awakened senses in the first created Man; but, for that which is 
consistent and splendid in our great poet— who makes him raise ln- 
wondering eyes to Heaven and spring up by quick instinctive motion 
as "thitherward endeavouring," he substitutes a bad combination of 
philosophy with eloquence. 

"To place the subject more distinctly before us,' says Button, 
"the first created man shall speak for himself;" and the sentence 
which he is made to utter is to the effect,— " that he remembers the 
moment of his creation— that time, so full of joy and trouble, when 
he first looked round on the verdant lawns and crystal fountains, and 
saw the vault of Heaven over his head ;"— and he proceeds to de- 



110 



CHANGES IN THE GLOBE 



clare, — " that he knew not what he was or whence he came, and 
believed that all he saw was part of himself." He is thus repre- 
sented to be conscious of objects, which even to see implies expe- 
rience, and to enjoy, supposes a thousand disagreeable associations 
already formed: — but from this blissful state he is awakened by 
striking his head against a palm tree, which he had not yet learned 
could hurt him ! 

Men are diffident of their first notions, and conceive that philoso- 
phy must lead to something very different from what they have been 
early taught : hence the absurdity of this combination of philosophy 
and poetry. Later writers have argued that we have no right to 
suppose that there has been, at any time, an interruption to the course 
of nature. What they term the uniformity of nature, is the preva- 
lence of the same laws which are now in operation. If, say they, 
it happened that on the arrival of a colony in a new country, fruits 
were produced spontaneously around them, and flowers sprung up 
under their feet, then, we might suppose that our first parents were 
placed in a scene of beauty and profusion — suited to their helpless 
condition — and unlike what we see now in the course of nature. 

It is not very wise to entertain the subject at all, but if it is to be 
argued, this is starting altogether wide of the question. We do not 
desire to know how a tribe migrating westward could find suste- 
nance, but in what state man could be created to live without a de- 
viation from what is called the course of nature. 

If man had been formed helpless as an infant, he must have 
perished; and if mature in body, he must have been created with 
faculties suited to his condition. A human being, pure from the 
Maker's hands, with desires and passions implanted in him, adapted 
to his state, and with a suitable theatre of existence, implies some- 
thing very near what we have been early taught to believe. 

In every change which the globe has undergone, we see an esta- 
blished relation between the animal created, and the elements around 
it. It is idle to suppose this a matter of chance. Either the struc- 
ture and functions of the animal must have been formed to corre- 
spond with the condition of the elements, or the elements must have 
been controlled to minister to the necessities of the animal ; and if 
the most careful investigation lead us to this conclusion, in contem- 
plating all the inferior gradations of animal existence, what is it that 
makes us so unwilling to admit such an influence in the last grand 
work of creation ? 

We cannot resist those proofs of a beginning, or of design pre- 
vailing every where, or of a First Cause. When we are bold enough 
to extend our inquiries into the great revolutions which have taken 
place, whether in the condition of the earth or in the structure of the 
animals which have inhabited it, our notions of the uniformity of the 
course of nature must suffer some modification. Changes must, at 
certain epochs, have been wrought, and new beings brought into ex- 



AXD SUCCESSIVE EPOCHS. J | 1 

istence different from the order of things previously existing or now 
existing : and such interference is not contrary to the great scheme 
of creation. It is not contrary to that scheme, but only to our present 
state. For the most wise and benevolent purposes, a convinion is 
implanted in our nature that we should relv on the course ..f event* 
as permanent and necessary. We belong to a certain epoch : and ,t 
is when our ambitious thoughts carry us beyond our natural condi- 
tion, that we feel how much our faculties are constrained, and our 
conceptions, as well as our language, imperfect. We must either 
abandon these speculations altogether, or cease to argue purelv from 
our present situation. 

It has been made manifest that man and the animals inhabiting 
the earth have been created with reference to the magnitude of the 
globe itself; — that their living endowments bear a relation to their 
state of existence and to the elements around them. We have learnt 
that the system of animal bodies is simple and universal, notwith- 
standing the amazing diversity of forms that meet the eye— and that 
this system not only embraces all living creatures, but that it has 
been in operation at periods of great antiquity, before the last revo- 
lution of the earth's surface had been accomplished. 

The most obvious appearances and the labours of the geologist 
give us reason to believe that the earth has not always been in the 
state in which it is now presented to us. Every substance which 
we see is compound; we nowhere obtain the elements of things: 
the most solid materials of the globe are formed of decompounded 
and reunited parts. Changes have been wrought on the general sur- 
face, and the proofs of these changes are as distinct as the furrows 
on a field are indicative that the plough has passed over it. The 
deeper parts of the crust of earth and the animal remains imbedded, 
also give proofs of revolutions : and that in the course of these revo- 
lutions there have been long periods or epochs. In short, progres- 
sive changes, from the lowest to the highest state of existence, of 
organization and of enjoyment, point to the great truth that there 
was a beginning. 

When the geologist sees a succession of stratified rocks — the low - 
est simple, or perhaps chemical ; the strata above these, compound ; 
and successively others more conglomerated, or more distinctly com- 
posed of the fragments of the former — it is not easy to contradict the 
hypothesis of an eternal succession of causes. But there is nothing 
like this in the animal body, the material is the same in all, the gene- 
ral design too is the same : but each family, as it is created, is sub- 
mitted to such new and fundamental arrangements in its construc- 
tion as implies the presence of the hand of the Creator. 

There is nothing in the inspection of the species of animals which 
countenances the notion of a return of the world to any former con- 
dition. When we acknowledge that animals have been created in 
succession and with an increasing complexity of parts, we are not to 



112 



COMPARISON OF SOME PARTS OF THE 



be understood as admitting that there is here proof of a growing ma- 
turity of power, or an increasing effort in the Creator; and for this 
very plain reason, which we have stated, that the bestowing of life 
or the union of the vital principle with the material body, is the 
manifestation of a power superior to that displayed in the formation 
of an organ or the combination of many organs, or construction of 
the most complex mechanism. It is not, therefore, a greater power 
that we see in operation, but a power manifesting itself in the perfect 
and successive adaptation of one thing to another — or vitality and 
organization to inorganic matter. 

In contemplating the chain of animal creation, we observe that 
even now, there are parts of the earth's surface which are marshy, 
and insalubrious, and that these are the places inhabited by amphibious 
and web-footed animals, — such as are suited to the oozy margins of 
swamps, lakes or estuaries. It is most interesting to find that when 
the remains of animals of similar construction, are found in the solid 
rocks, the geologist discovers by other signs that at the period of the 
formation of these rocks, the surface was flat, and that it produced 
such plants as imply a similar state of the earth to these swampy 
and unhealthy regions. 

We mark changes in the earth's surface, and observe, at the same 
time, corresponding changes in the animal creation. We remark 
varieties in the outward form, size and general condition of ani- 
mals, and corresponding varieties in the internal organization, — until 
we find men created of undoubted pre-eminence over all, and placed 
suitably in a bounteous condition of the earth. 

Most certainly the original crust of the earth has been fractured 
and burst up, so as to expose its contents ; that they might be re- 
solved and washed away, by the vicissitudes of heat, cold, and rain. 
Mountains and valleys have been formed ; the changes of tempera- 
ture in the atmosphere have ensured continual motion and healthful 
circulation : the plains have been made salubrious, and the damps 
which hung on the low grounds have gathered on the mountains in 
clouds, so that refreshing showers have brought down the soil to 
fertilize the plain; thus at once have been supplied the means for 
man's existence, with objects suited to excite his ingenuity, and to 
reward it, and fitted to develope all the various properties both of 
his body and of his mind. 

There is extreme grandeur in the thought of an anticipating or 
prospective intelligence: in reflecting that what w r as finally accom- 
plished in man, was begun in times incalculably remote, and antece- 
dent to the great revolutions which the earth's surface has under- 
gone. Nor are these conclusions too vast to be drawn from the ex- 
amination of a part so small as the bones of the hand ; since we 
have shown that the same system of parts which constitutes the per- 
fection of that instrument adapted to our condition, had its type in 
the members of those vast animals which inhabited the bays, and 



EARTH WITH A FORMER CONDITION". 



inland lakes of a former world. If we seek to discover the relati 
of things, how sublime is the relation established between that 
of the earth's surface, which has resulted from a long succession of 
revolutions, and the final condition of its inhabitants as created in ac- 
cordance with the change. 

Nothing is more surprising to our measure of time, than the slow- 
ness with which the designs of Providence have been fulfilled. Bui 
as far as we can penetrate by the light of natural knowledge, tin- 
condition of the earth, and with it of man's destinies, have hitherto 
been accomplished in great epochs. 

We have been engaged in comparing the structure, organs, and 
capacity of man and of animals — we have traced a relation — but 
we have also observed a broad line of separation: man alone capa- 
ble of reason, affection, gratitude, and religion: sensible to the | - 
gress of time, conscious of the decay of his strength and faculties 
the loss of friends, and the approach of death. 

One who was the idol of his day has recorded his feelings in 
nearly these words, — "We are as well as those can be who nave 
nothing further to hope or fear in this world. We go in and nut. 
but without the sentiments that can create attachment to any spot 
We are in a state of quiet, but it is the tranquillity of the grave, in 
which all that could make life interesting to us is laid." If in such 
a state there were no refuge for the mind, then were there some- 
thing wanting in the scheme of nature: an imperfection in man's 
condition at variance with the benevolence which is manifested in 
all other parts of animated nature. 



11 



ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 



ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 



THE MECHANICAL PROPERTIES OF THE SOLID STRUCTURE OF THE A M M 1 1 
BODY CONSIDERED. 



I yield to the suggestion of friends in further pursuing the subject 
of the solid textures of the animal frame, with the proofs of design 
which are exhibited in its mechanical provisions. 

It has been shown in the first chapter that solidity and gravity are 
qualities necessary to every inhabitant of the earth: the first to pro- 
tect it ; the second, that the animal may stand, and possess that re- 
sistance, w r hich shall make the muscles available for action. 

The first material to be taken notice of, which bestows this neces- 
sary firmness on the animal textures, is the cellular substance. Thia 
consists of delicate membranes, which form cells; these cells a 
municate with each other, and the tissue thus composed enters ever) 
where into the structure of the animal frame. It constitutes the prin- 
cipal part of the medusa, which floats like a bubble on the water; 
and it is found in every texture of the human body. It forms the 
most delicate coats of the eye, and gives toughness and firmness to 
the skin. It is twisted into ligaments, and knits the strongest bones ; 
it is the medium between bone, muscle, and blood-vessel : it produces 
a certain firmness and union of the various component parts of the 
body while it admits of their easy motion. Without it, we should 
be rigid, notwithstanding the proper organs for motion; and the 
cavities could not be distended or contracted, nor could the vessels 
pulsate. 

But this cellular texture is not sufficient on all occasions, either 
for giving strength or protection: nor does it serve to sustain the 

weight, unless the animal live suspended in water, or creep u| the 

around. We see, therefore, the necessity for some harder and more 
resisting material being added, if the weight is to rest on points M 
extremities ; or if the muscular activity is to be concentrated. 

Nature has other means of supplying the fulcrum and lever, he- 
sides the bones, or true skeleton, which we have been examining m 
the first part of this volume: and perhaps we shall find that there 
may be a system of solid parts superior to what we have been 
studying in the vertebrate 

The larvae of proper insects and the nnnclidcs have no ext. .o, 
members for walking or flying: but to enable them to creep, Uiej 
must have points of resistance, or their muscles would be u» - 

11 * 



118 



ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Their skins suffice ; they are hardened by a deposite within them for 
this purpose ; but if this skin were not further provided, it would be 
rigid and unyielding, and be no substitute for bone. These hard- 
ened integuments are, therefore, divided into rings; to these the 
muscles are attached ; and as the cellular membrane between the 
rings is pliant, these annelides can creep and turn in every direc- 
tion. 

Without further argument, we perceive how the skin, by having 
a hard matter deposited in it, is adapted to all the purposes of the 
skeleton. It is worthy of notice that some animals, still lower in the 
scale, — the tubipores, sertularia, cellularia, &c, exhibit something 
like a skeleton. They are contained w r ithin a strong case from 
which they can extend themselves: whilst the corals and madre- 
pores, on the other hand, have a central axis of hard material, the 
soft animal substance being, in a manner, seated upon it. But these 
substitutes for the skeleton are, like shell, foreign to the living ani- 
mal; although in office they may resemble bone in sustaining the 
softer substance and giving form. 

In the proper insect I should say that there is a nearer approach 
to a skeleton, did it not appear that the apparatus is more perfect 
than in some of the animals which have a true skeleton. The re- 
sisting material is here deposited externally, and is converted to 
every purpose which we have seen attained by means of the skele- 
ton. Distinct members are formed, with the power of walking, 
leaping, flying, holding, spinning, and weaving. The hardened in- 
teguments, thus articulated and performing the office of bones, have, 
like them, spines and processes : with this difference, that their as- 
pect is towards the centre, instead of projecting exteriorly. Were 
we to compare the system of " resisting parts" in man and in the 
insect, we should be forced to acknowledge the mechanical provi- 
sions to be superior in the lower animal! The first advantage of the 
skeleton (as we may be permitted to call the system of hard parts in 
the insect) being external and lifeless, is, that it is capable of having 
greater hardness and strength bestow r ed upon it, according to the 
necessities of the animal, than can be bestowed upon bone: true 
bone being internal and growing with the animal, is penetrated with 
blood-vessels ; and therefore must be porous and soft. The next 
advantage is mechanical. The hard material is strong to resist 
fracture, and to bear the action of muscles, in proportion to its dis- 
tance from the centre : for the muscles in the insect, instead of sur- 
rounding the bones, as in the higher animals, are contained within 
the shell, and the shell is, consequently, so much the further thrown 
off from the axis. 

When considering the larger vertebral animals, we had reason to 
say that there is a correspondence between the resistance of the 
bones and the power of the muscles, and we may indulge the same 
reflection here. As the integument covering the insect is much 



OF THE MECHANICAL PROPERTIES. U9 

harder than hone, so are the muscles stronger, compared with the 
muscles of the vertebrata. From the time of Socrates, comparisons 
have been made between the strength of the horse and of the infect | 
to the obvious superiority of the latter. 

As goodly a volume has been written on the muscles of a cater- 
pillar as has ever been dedicated to the human myology. A very 
minute anatomical description has been made of the" caterpillar 
which feeds upon the willow; and here we see that the annular 
construction of the hard integument determines the plan of the whole 
anatomy: the arrangement of the muscles, and the distribution of 
the nerves. Each ring has its three sets of muscles; direct, oblique, 
traversing and interweaving, but yet distinct and symmetrical ; and 
all as capable of being minutely described as those of the human 
body have been by Albinus.* Corresponding with these muscles, 
the system of nerves is delicately laid down. In short, we allow 
ourselves to be misled in supposing that animals, either of minute 
size or low in the scale of arrangement, exhibit any neglect or im- 
perfection. Even if they were more simple in structure, the admi- 
ration should be the greater : since they have all the functions in full 
operation which are necessary to life. 

We may perceive that a certain substance calculated to sustain 
the more strictly living part, and to give strength, may be traced 
through all living bodies. In the vegetable it is the woody fibre; 
and there, sometimes, as if to mark the analogy, we may find sili- 
cious earth deposited instead of the phosphate and carbonate of lime 
of the animal structure. In the lower animals we find membranes 
capable of secreting a solid material, and although in some instances 
the substance is like leather or cartilage, it is in general earthy, and 
for the most part, carbonate of lime. But. when elasticity is neces- 
sary, as well as general resistance, cartilage is employed, which is 
a highly comprehensible and elastic substance. Thus, in fishes, 
there is a large proportion of cartilage in their bones, and from this 
greater quantitv, some have been called cartilaginous m disUn 
to the osseous or true fishes. The cartilaginous and elastic skeleton 
is brought into use in an unexpected manner : when the salmon or 
trout leaps from the water, the muscles bend the clastic spine — 
which recoils in aid of the muscles of the opposite class: and thus 
these two forces combine to give a powerful stroke with the tail 00 
the water. 

MECHANICAL PROPERTIES IN BONE OR IN THE TRUE SKELETON. 

These considerations lead us the more readily to 
composition of bone; which is a combination ol three parte having 

* The work referred to is by Lyo.net, who reckons toft-Wi* 
muscles in this caterpillar. He was, I think, a la* ycr, With MH 



120 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE 



different properties, — membrane, phosphate of lime, and cartilage. 
By these it is enabled to resist stretching, compression, and tortion. 
If bone had a superabundance of the earthy parts, it would break 
like a piece of porcelain ; and if it did not possess toughness and 
some degree of elasticity, it would not enable a man to pull and 
push and twist. 

Looking to the dense bone, we should hardly suppose that it was 
elastic ; but if ivory be possessed of elasticity, it cannot be denied 
to bone. Now if a billiard ball be put upon a marble slab which 
has been painted, a very small spot will mark where the contact 
has been ; but if we let the ball drop upon the marble from a 
height, we shall find the spot much larger, and that the elasticity 
of the ivory has permitted the ball to yield and momentarily to as- 
sume an oblate spheroidal form. 

When a new principle is admitted into a complex fabric, the 
utmost ingenuity can hardly anticipate all the results. Elasticity 
is extensively employed in the machinery of the animal body ; and 
to show how finely it must be apportioned, we shall take the in- 
stance of a bridge built with iron instead of stone, and having a 
certain swing and elasticity. It lately happened that a bridge of 
this kind fell in very curious circumstances, — by the marching of a 
body of soldiers over it. Now the bridge was calculated to sustain 
a greater weight than this body of men : and had they walked 
tumultuously over it, it would have withstood the pressure : but the 
soldiers marching to time, accumulated a motion, aided by the 
elasticity of the material, which broke it down. This leads us 
to form a conception of the necessity of the fine adjustment of the 
material in the animal fabric ; not merely to enable it to sustain 
the incumbent weight, or transverse or oblique impulses, but to 
withstand the frequent, and regularly repeated forces to which it 
may be subject in the various actions of the body. It gives interest 
to this fact, that there is hardly a bone but what has a constitution 
of its own, adjusted to its place and use: the heel bone, the shin 
bone, the vertebra;, and the bones of the head, differ in mechanical 
construction. But the consideration of these adaptations in the 
constitution of the bones makes some general remarks necessary. 

Perfect security against accidents in the animal body, and in 
man especially, is not consistent with the scheme of nature. 
Without the precautions and the continued calls to exertion, for 
safety, which danger and the uncertainty of life produce, many of 
the faculties of the mind would remain unexercised; and whence 
else would come courage, resolution, and all the manly virtues ? 
Take away the influence of the uncertain duration of life, and we 
must suppose also a change in the whole moral constitution of 
man. Whether we consider the bones as formed to protect the 
part, as in the skull : or to be levers to which the muscles are at- 
tached, as in the limbs : or in both capacities, as in the texture of 



MECHANICAL PROPERTIES OF BONE- 



121 



the chest: while they are perfectly adapted to their function, thev 
are yet subject to derangements from accident. The mechanical 
adaptations which we have to observe are perfectly sufficient to 
their ends, and afford safety in the natural exercises' of the b-ulv. 
To these exercises there is an intuitive impulse, ordered with a re- 
lation to the frame of the body; whilst, on the other hand, 
are deterred from the excessive or dangerous use of the limbs by the 
admonitions of pain. Without such considerations, the reader 
would fall into the mistake that weakness and liability to fracture 
implied imperfection in the frame of the body : whereas a deeper 
contemplation of the subject will convince him of the incomparable 
perfection both of the plan and of the execution. The body is. 
intended to be subject to derangement and accident, and to be-* 
come, in the course of life, more and more fragile, until by some 
failure in the frame-work or vital action, life terminates. 

The bones of the extremities are called hollow cylinders. New, 
after we have convinced ourselves of the necessity of this for- 
mation, we find these bones, upon a more particular examination, 
extremely varied in their shapes : and we are, at last, prone to 
believe that there is much of chance or irregularity in their shapes ; 
but such a conception is quite inconsistent with a correct know- 
ledge of the skeleton. As this notion, however, is very com- 
monly entertained and leads to further mistakes, we shall take 
pains to show, — first, why the bones are hollow ; and, in the 
second place, why they vary in their shape, so as to appear to 
the superficial observer irregular. 

The reasoning that applies to the hollow cylindrical bone serves 
equally to explain many other natural forms, as that of a quill, a 
reed, or a straw. The last example reminds us of the unfortunate 
man who was drawn from- his cell before the Inquisition, and ac- 
cused of having denied that there was a God; when picking up a 
straw that had stuck to his garments, he said, "If there w 
nothing else in nature to teach me the existence of a Deity, this 
straw would be sufficient." It hardly requires demonstration to 
prove that, with a given mass of material to make a pillar or 
column, the hollow cylinder will be the form of strength. The 
experiments of Du Hamel on the strength of beams afTordfl Qfl the 
best illustration how the material should be arranged to resist trans- 
verse fracture. When a beam rests on its extremities, bearing a 
weight upon its centre, it admits of being divided into three ,„.,-. 
tions; for these three parts are in a different condition with regard 
to the weight. The lower part resists fracture by its toughness: 
the upper part, by its density and resistance to compressions but 
there is a portion between these which is not acted upon at all; 
which might be taken away without any considerable weakening ol 
the beam: and which might be added to the upper or thejowei 
part with great advantage. It can readily be understood bOH a 



182 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE 



tougher substance added to the lower part would strengthen the 
beam : we see it in the skin which is laid along the back part of 
the Indian's bow ; or in the leather of a carriage spring : but the 
following is a beautiful experiment to demonstrate that quality in 
the timber which resists, at the upper portion of the beam. If a 
portion amounting to nearly a third part of the beam be cut away 
and a harder piece of wood be nicely let into the space, the 
strength will be increased ; because the hardness of this piece of 
wood resists compression. This experiment I like the better be- 
cause it explains a very inieresting peculiarity in the different 
densities of the several parts or sides of the bones. In reading 
anatomical books, we are led to the supposition that the various 
forms of the bones result from the pressure of the muscles. This 
is a mistake. Were we to consider this the true explanation, it 
would not only be admitting an imperfection, but we should ex- 
pect to find, if the bones yielded in any degree to the force of the 
muscles, that they would yield more and more, and be ultimately 
destroyed. There is nothing more admirable in the living frame 
than the relation established between the muscular power and the 
capacity of passive resistance in the bones. The deviations from 
the cylindrical forms are not irregularities; and if we take that 
bone which deviates the furthest from the cylindrical shape, the tibia, 
or shin bone, we shall have demonstration of the relation between 
the shape of the bone and the force which it has to sustain. 

If we consider the direction of the force in walking, running, 
or leaping, and in all the powerful exertions where the weight of 
the body is thrown forwards on the ball of the great toe, it must ap- 
pear that the pressure against this bone is chiefly on the anterior 
part: and there is no doubt that if the tibia were a perfect cylin- 
der, it would be subject to fracture even with the mere force of 
the body itself thrown upon it. But if, as we have stated, the 
column is stronger in proportion as the material is distant from 
the centre, we readily perceive how an anterior spine or ridge, 
should be thrown out : and if we attend to the internal structure 
of that spine, we shall find that it is much denser and stronger 
than the rest of the bone. We cannot here deem either the form or 
the density of this ridge, a thing of accident ; since it so perfectly 
corresponds with the experiment of Du Hamel which we have 
described, where the dense piece of wood being let into the piece 
of timber, it was found to be a means of resisting transverse frac- 
ture. If we proceed with the knowledge of these facts to the 
examination of the different bones of the skeleton, we shall find 
that every where the form has a strict relation either to the motion 
to be performed, or the strain to which the bone is liable. 

In comparing the true bones with the coverings of the insects, 
we observed the necessity for the porous structure of the former. 
If it be necessary that the bone shall be very dense, it will no longer 



V 



MECHANICAL PROPERTIES OF BOxYE. 



123 



be possessed of the power of reunion or reproduction when it 
breaks : it will not re-unite upon being fractured, and if exposed, 
it will die. Here, then, is an obvious imperfection. The bones 
of animals cannot, in this manner, be made capable of sustaining 
great weight, without losing a property which is necessarv to 
their existence— that of restoration on their being injured. And 
even were the material very much condensed, it does not appear 
that the phosphate of lime, united as it is with the animal matter, is 
capable of sustaining any great weight; this accordingly limits 
the size of animals. It may, perhaps, countenance the belief 
that animals bear a relation in their size and duration of life, to the 
powers and life of man, that the larger animals have existed in a 
former condition of the world. We allude only to such animals as 
have extremities: for with respect to the whale, its huge bulk 
lies out supported on the water. The iguanadon, discovered by 
Mr. Mantell, is estimated to have been seventy feet in length, and 
to have had extremities. But the thigh and leg did not exceed 
eight feet in length, while the foot extended to six feet ; a proportion, 
altogether, which implies that the extremities assisted the animal to 
crawl, rather than that they were capable of bearing its weight, 
as the extremities of the mammalia. However, we find that in 
the larger terrestrial animals, the material of the bones is dense, 
and that their cavities are filled up : the diameters of those of the 
extremities, with their spines and processes being remarkably large. 
Nothing can be conceived more clumsy than the bones of the 
megatherium: so that it appears that nature has exhausted her 
resources with respect to this material ; and that living and vascu- 
lar bone could not be moulded into a form to sustain the bulk and 
weight of an animal much superior to the elephant, mastodon, and 
megatherium.* 

With regard to the articulation of the bones, we cannot mistake 
the reason of the surfaces of contact being enlarged. In machinery 
it is found that, if the pressure be the same, the extension of the sur- 
faces in contact does not increase the friction. If, for example, a 

* The subject may be illustrated in this manner :— " A soft stone projecting from 
a wall, may make a stile strong 1 enough to bear a person's weight; but if it were 
necessary to double the length of the stile, the thickness must be more than 
doubled, or a freestone substituted; and were it necessary to make this freestone 
project twice as far from the wall, even if doubled in thickness, it would not he 
strong enough to bear a proportioned increase of weight: granite must be placed 
in its stead; and even the granite would not be capable of sustaining four times the 
weight which the soft stone bore in the first instance. In the same way the stones 
which form an arch, of a large span, must be of the hardest granite, or their own 
weight would crush them. The same principle is applicable to the bones ol ini- 
mals. The material of bone is too soft to admit an indefinite increase ol weigh* ; 
and it is another illustration of what was before stated, that there is a relation esta- 
blished through all nature: that the very animals which move upon the surface of 
the earth are proportioned to its magnitude, and the gravitation to its centre."— 
Animal Mechanics. 



124 



OF ELASTIC PARTS. 



stone or a piece of timber, of the shape of a book or a brick, should 
be laid upon a flat surface, it would be drawn across it with equal 
facility, whether it rested upon its edge or upon its side. The fric- 
tion of the bones which enter into the knee joint is not increased by 
their greater diameter ; while great advantages are gained ; the 
ligaments which knit these bones give more strength than they 
otherwise would, and the tendons which run over them, being re- 
moved to a distance from the centre, have more power. 

THE MUSCULAR AND ELASTIC FORCES. 

The muscular power is contrasted with the elastic, as possessing 
a living property of motion. We acquiesce in the distinction, since 
the muscular fibre ceases to have irritability or power in death, while 
elasticity continues in the dead part. But yet there is a property of 
elasticity in the living body which cannot be retained after death. 
To illustrate this we shall take the instance of the catgut string of 
a harp. Suppose that the string is screwed tight, so as to vibrate 
in a given lime, and to sound the note correctly; if that string be 
struck rudely, it is put out of tune ; that is, it is stretched and some- 
what relaxed, and no longer vibrates in time. This does not take 
place in the living fibre : for here there is a property of restoration. 
If we see the tuner screwing up the harp string, and with difficulty, 
and after repeated attempts, bringing it to its due tension, — trying it 
with the tuning fork, and with his utmost acquired skill restoring it 
to its former elasticity, we have a demonstration of how much life 
is performing in the fibres of the animal frame, after every effort or 
exertion ; and the more powerful the mechanical parts of the body 
are, the more carefully is the proper tension of the tendons, liga- 
ments, and heart-cords preserved. Or we may take the example of 
a steel spring. A piece of steel, heated to a white heat, and plunged 
into cold water, acquires certain properties ; and if heated again to 
500 of Fahrenheit, it is very elastic ; possessing what is called a 
" spring temper," so that it will recoil and vibrate. But if this 
spring be bent in a degree too much, it will lose part of its elasticity. 
Should the parts of the living body, on the other hand, be thus used, 
they have a power of restoration which the steel has not. 

If a piece of fine mechanism be made perfect by the workman, it 
may be laid by and preserved ; but it is very different with the ani- 
mal body. The mechanical properties of the living frame, like the 
endowments of the mind, must not lie idle, or they will suffer deteriora- 
tion. If, by some misfortune, a limb be- put out of use, not only is 
the power of the muscles rapidly diminished, which every one will 
acknowledge, but the property of resistance is destroyed ; and bones, 
and tendons, and ligaments quickly degenerate.* 

* This subject is illustrated in the Essay on Animal Mechanics, Part. II. 



COMPARISON OF THE EYE WITH THE HAND. 125 



A COMPARISON OF THE EYE WITH THE HAND. 

If we are in search of an object which shall excite the highest 
interest, and at the same time afford proofs of design in the most 
delicate of all the organs of the body, we naturally turn to the eye : 
and this organ suits our present purpose the better, that we have to 
show how much of the sense of vision depends on the hand, and 
how strict the analogy is between the two organs. 

From the time of Sir Henry Wotton to the latest writer on light, 
the eye has been a subject of admiration and eulogy. But I have 
ventured, on a former occasion* to say, that this admiration is mis- 
placed, while it is given to the ball of the eye and the optic nerve 
exclusively ; since the high endowments of this organ belong to the 
exercise of the whole eye, to its exterior apparatus, as much as to 
its humours and the proper nerve of vision. It is to the muscular 
apparatus, and to the conclusions which we are enabled to draw 
from the consciousness of muscular effort, that we owe that sense 
by which we become familiar with the form, magnitude, and rela- 
tions of objects. One might as well imagine that he understood the 
effect and uses of a theodolite, on estimating the optical powers of 
the glasses, without looking to the quadrant, level, or plumb-line, as 
suppose that he had learnt the whole powers of the eye by confin- 
ing his study to the naked ball. 

W e must begin our observations by a minute attention to the 
structure and sensibility of. the retina. The retina is the internal 
coat of the eye ; it consists of a delicate, pulpy, nervous matter, 
which is contained between two membranes of extreme fineness, 
and these membranes both support it and give to its surfaces a 
mathematical correctness. The matter of the nerve, as well as 
these supporting membranes, are perfectly transparent, during life ; 
and on the axis of the eye, there is a small portion which remains 
transparent, when the rest of the membrane becomes opaque, and 
which has been mistaken for a foramen,f or hole in the retina. It 
is surprising, that with all the industry which has been employed to 
demonstrate the structure of the eye, it is only in the present clay 
that a most essential part of the retina has been discovered — the 
membrane of Mr. Jacob. From observing the phenomena of vision, 
and especially the extreme minuteness of the image cast upon the 
retina, I had conceived that the whole nerve was not the seat of 
vision, but only one or other of its surfaces. This could not be 
well illustrated until the exterior membrane of the retina was 
demonstrated. But now we see that this membrane, when floated 
in water and under a magnifying glass, is of extreme tenuity, and 

* See Philosophical Transactions. 

f It is this part which is called the foramer of Soemmerring. 
12 



12G 



COMPARISON OF THE EYE 



its smooth surface is well calculated to correspond with the exterior 
surface of that layer of nervous matter which is the seat of the, 
sense. 

The term retina would imply that the nerve constitutes a net- 
work : and the expressions of some of our first modern authorities 
would induce us to believe that they view it in this light, as corre- 
sponding with their hypothesis. But there is no fibrous texture in 
the matter of the nerve; although, when the retina is floated and 
torn with the point of a needle, the innermost of the membranes 
which support the nerve, the tunica vasculosa retina, presents some- 
thing of this appearance. 

Vision is not excited by light unless the rays penetrate through 
the transparent retina and reach the exterior surface from within. 

It is well known, that if we press upon the eye-ball with a key or the 
end of a pencil-case, zones of light are excited. The perception of 
that light is, as if the rays came in a direction opposite to the pres- 
sure. We may say that, in this case, the effect of the pressure is as- 
similated to that of light; and as light can strike the part of the nerve 
which is pressed, only by coming in an opposite direction, the zones of 
light produced by the mechanical impulse appear in the usual direc- 
tion of rays impinging upon this part: and consequently, they give 
the impression of their source being in the opposite quarter. Let 
us contrast this phenomenon with the following experiment. Close 
the eyelids, and cover them with a piece of black cloth or paper 
which has a small hole in it ; and place this hole, not opposite to 
the pupil, but to the white of the eye; direct a beam of light upon 
the hole; a person will see this light in its true direction. Why 
should there be in these two cases a difference in the apparent place 
from which the light is derived? were it not that the rays of light 
directed upon the eye-ball, after striking upon the retina, pierce 
through it and through the humours of the eye, and impinge upon 
the retina on the opposite side. This explains why the light excited 
in the eye shall appear to come from different quarters; but it does 
not explain why there should not be a double impression — why the 
beam of light should not influence the retina while penetrating it in 
the first instance, that is in passing through it from without inwards, 
as well as when it has penetrated the humours and strikes upon the 
opposite part of the retina from within outwards. 

Another fact, w 7 hich has surprised philosophers, is the insensibility 
of the optic nerve itself to light. If it be so contrived that the 
strongest beam of light shall fall upon the end of the nerve at the 
bottom of the eye, where it begins to expand into the delicate re- 
tina, no sensation of light will be produced. This ought not to sur- 
prise us, if I am correct in my statement that the gross matter of 
the nerve is not the organ of vision, but the exterior surface of it 
only. In the extremity of the optic nerve there is, of course, no 
posterior surface ; and, indeed, nothing can better prove the distinct 



WITH THE HAND. 



127 



office of the nerve as contrasted with the expanded retina, than this 
circumstance, that when the strongest ray of light strikes into the 
nerve itself, the impression is not received. It seems to imply, that 
the capacity of receiving the impression, and of conveying it to the 
sensorium, are two distinct functions. 

Is not this opinion more consistent with the phenomena than what 
is expressed by one of our first philosophers, that the nerve, at its 
extremity towards the eye, forms what has been called the punctum 
cascum, and is insensible, because it is not yet divided into those al- 
most infinitely minute fibres which are fine enough to be thrown into 
tremors by the rays of light. 

Independently of this punctum ccecum, we have to observe that 
the whole surface of the retina is not equally sensible to light. 
There is a small spot, opposite to the pupil and in the axis of the 
eye, which is more peculiarly sensible to visual impressions. An 
attempt has been made to ascertain the diameter of this spot; and 
it is said, that a ray at an angle of five degrees from the optic axis, 
strikes exterior to this sensible part. But we shall, on the contrary, 
see reason to conclude, that the sensible spot is not limited to an 
exact circle, that it is not regularly defined, and that the sensibility, 
in fact, is increasing to the very centre. 

Some have denied the existence of this extreme sensibility in the 
centre of the retina, attributing the distinctness of the vision to the 
circumstance of the light being made to converge through the in- 
fluence of the humours, more correctly to this point. I shall, there- 
fore, show how impossible vision would be, were it not that the 
sensibility of the retina increases gradually from its utmost circum- 
ference to the point which forms the axis of the eye. 

We see objects by reflected light, at the very instant that direct 
light enters the eye. As the impression by the direct light is many 
times stronger than the reflected rays from the object, the vision of 
the object would be destroyed by the contrast, were there not this 
admirable provision in the retina, that the direct light shall fall upon 
a part less sensible, the reflected light upon a part more sensible. 
If, in full day, and in the open field, the eye be directed southward, 
the rays from the sun enter the eye at the time that we are looking 
to certain objects. It is perfectly clear, that if the sun's rays struck 
a part of the retina as sensible as the spot in the centre or axis, it 
would extinguish all secondary impressions : the glare would be 
painfully powerful, as when we look directly to the sun. If a mo- 
mentary glance to the sun produce a sensation so acute that we see 
nothing for some time after, would not the same happen were the 
retina equally sensible in all its surface? A similar thing takes 
place in a chamber lighted with candles ; we do not see the person 
immediately on the other side of the candle: for there the direct 
light interferes with the reflected light, effacing the slighter impres- 
sion of the latter. 



us 



COMPARISON OF THE EVE 



We perceive, therefore, that if the retina were equally sensible 
over all its surface we could not see. Let us, then, observe how we 
do actually see, and how the organ is exercised. There is a con- 
tinual desire of exercising the sensible spot, the proper seat of vision. 
When an impression is made upon the retina, in that unsatisfactory 
degree, which is the effect of its striking any part but the centre, 
there is an effort made to direct the axis towards it, or, in other 
words, to receive the rays from it upon the more sensible centre. 
It is this sensibility, therefore, conjoined with the action of the mus- 
cles of the eye-ball, which produce the constant searching motion of 
the eye ; so that, in effect, from the lesser sensibility of the retina 
generally, arises the necessity lor this exercise of the organ ; and to 
this may be attributed the high perfections of it. 

This faculty of searching for the object is slowly acquired in the 
child: and in truth, the motions of the eye are made perfect, like 
those of the hand by slow degrees. In both organs there is a com- 
pound operation : — the impression on the nerve of sense is accom- 
panied with an effort of the will, to accommodate the muscular ac- 
tion to it. It is no contradiction to this, that the faculty of vision is 
made perfect in the young of some animals from the beginning ; 
no more than the instinct of the duck, when it runs to the water 
the moment that the shell is broken, contradicts the fact that the 
child learns to stand and walk after a thousand repeated efforts. 

Let us now see how essential this searching motion of the eye 
is to vision. On coming into a room, we see the whole side of it at 
once — the mirror, the pictures, the cornice, the chairs; but we are 
deceived: being unconscious of the motions of the eye, and that each 
object is rapidly, but successively, presented to it. It is easy to 
show, that if the eye were steady, vision would be quickly lost: that 
all these objects, which are distinct and brilliant, are so from the 
motion of the eye: that they would disappear if it were otherwise. 
For example, let us fix the eye on one point, a thing difficult to 
do, owing to the very disposition to motion in the eye : but by re- 
peated attempts we may at length acquire the power of fixing the 
eve to a point; and when we have done so, we shall find, that the 
whole scene becomes more and more obscure, and finally vanishes. 
Let us fix the eye on the corner of the frame of the principal pic- 
ture in the room. At first, everything around it is distinct; in a 
very little time, however, the impression becomes weaker, objects 
appear dim, and then the eye has an almost incontrollable desire to 
wander; if this be resisted, the impressions of the figures in the 
picture first fade : for a time, we see the gilded frame : but this 
also becomes dim. W'hen we have thus far ascertained the fact, 
we change the direction of the eye, but ever so little, and at once 
the whole scene is again perfect before us. 

These phenomena are consequent upon the retina being subject to 
exhaustion. When a coloured ray of light impinges continuously 



WITH THE HAND. 



129 



on the same part of the retina, it becomes less sensible to it, but 
more sensible to a ray of the opposite colour. When the eye is 
fixed upon a point, the lights, shades, and colours of objects continu- 
ing to strike upon the same relative parts of the retina, the nerve 
is exhausted: but when the eye shifts, there is a new exercise of the 
nerve : the part of the retina that was opposed to the lights, is now 
opposed to the shades, and what was opposed to the different co- 
lours is now opposed to other colours, and the variation in the ex- 
citing cause produces a renewed sensation. From this it appears, 
how essential the incessant searching motion of the eye is to the 
continued exercise of the organ. 

Before dismissing this subject, we may give another instance. If 
we are looking upon an extensive prospect, and have the eye caught 
by an object at a distance, or when, in expectation of a friend, we 
see a figure advancing on the distant road, and we endeavour to 
scrutinize the object, fixing the eye intently upon it, it disappears; 
in our disappointment we rub the eyes, cast them about, look again, 
and once more see the object. The reason of this is very obvious : 
the retina is exhausted, but becomes recruited by looking on the 
other objects of different shades and colours. The sportsman on 
the moor or the hill side, feels this a hundred times when he marks 
down his covey, fixing his eye and travelling towards the spot. 

Here we may interrupt our inquiry to observe how inconsistent 
these phenomena are with the favourite hypothesis — that the light 
produces vision by exciting vibration in the fibres of the nerve. By 
all the laws of motion from which this hypothesis is borrowed, we 
know that if a body be set- in motion, it is easily kept in motion ; 
and that if a chord vibrate, that vibration will be kept up by a mo- 
tion in the same time. It appears to me natural to suppose, that if 
these fibres of the nerve (which, be it remembered, are also imagi- 
nary) were moved like the cords of a musical instrument, they 
would be most easily continued in motion by undulations in the same 
time: that if the red ray oscillated or vibrated in a certain propor- 
tion of time, it would keep the fibres of the nerve in action more 
easily, than a green ray, which vibrates in a different time. It the 
colour of a ray depended upon the peculiar undulation or vibration, 
it appears that before the green ray could produce a motion corre- 
sponding with itself, it must encounter a certain opposition, in inter- 
rupting the motion already begun.* 

* "Although any kind of impulse or motions regulated by any law may he trans- 
ferred from molecule to molecule in an elastic medium, yet, in the theory of light 
it is supposed that only such primary impulses, as recur according to regular peri- 
odical laws at intervals of time and repeated many times in succession, can affect 
our organs with the sensation of light. To put in motion the molecules of the 
nerves of our retina with sufficient efficacy, it is necessary that the almost infinitely 
minute impulse of the adjacent ethereal molecules should be often and regularly 
repeated, so as to multiply and concentrate their effect. Thus, as a great pendu- 
lum may be set in swing by a very minute force, often applied at intervals exactly 

12 * 



130 



COMPARISONS' OF THE EYE 



Reverting to the sensible spot in the retina, it does not appear 
that we are authorized in terming it a spot. The same law governs 
vision when we look to a fine point of a needle, or to an object in 
an extensive landscape. We look to the point of a pen, and we 
can rest the attention on the point upon the one side of the slit, to 
the exclusion of the other, just as we can select and .intently sur- 
vey a house or a tree. If the sensible spot were regularly defined, 
it must be very small: and were it, indeed, so defined, we should 
be sensible of it ; which we are not. The law, therefore, seems to 
be, at all times, that the nearer to the centre of the eye, the greater 
the sensibility to impression ; and this holds whether we are looking 
abroad in the country, or are microscopically intent upon objects 
of great minuteness. 

When men deny the fine muscular adaptation of the eye to the 
sensation on the retina, how do they account for the obvious fact — 
that the eye-ball does move in such just degrees? how is the one 
eye adjusted to the other with such marvellous precision? and how 
do the eyes move together in pursuit of an object, never failing to 
accompany it correctly, be it the flight of a bird, or the course of 
a tennis-ball, or even of a bomb-shell ? Is it not an irresistible con- 
clusion — that if we so follow an object, adjusting the muscles of the 
eye so as to present the axis of vision successively to it, as it 
changes place, we must be sensible of these motions? for how can 
we direct the muscles unless we be sensible to their action ? The 
question then comes, to be — whether being sensible to the condition 
of the muscles, and being capable of directing them with this ex- 
traordinary minuteness, this action of the muscles does not enter 
into our computation of the place of an object ? But is not this 
exactly the same question recurring as when we ask — whether we 
can direct the hand without knowing where the hand is ? Must 
there not be a feeling or knowledge of the position of the hand, 
before we can give it direction to an object? And must we not 
have a conception of the relation of the muscles and of the position 

equal to its time of oscillation, or as one elastic body can be set in vibration, by the 
vibration of another at a distance propagated through the air, if in exact unison, 
even so we may conceive the gross fibres of the nerves of the retina to be thrown 
into motion by the continual repetition of the ethereal pulses; and such only will 
be thus agitated, as from their size, shape or elasticity, are susceptible of vibrating 
in times exactly equal to those at which the impulses are repeated. Thus it is easy 
to conceive how the limits of visible colour may be established: for if there be no 
nervous fibres in unison with vibrations more or less frequent than certain limits, 
such vibrations, though they reach the retina, will produce no sensation. Thus, 
too, a single impulse, or z n irregularly repeated one, produces no light. And 
thus also may the vibrations excited in the retina continue a sensible time after the 
exciting cause has ceased, prolonging the sensation of light (especially if a vivid 
one) for an instant in the eye in the manner described." Sir W. Herschell, Art. 
Light. Enc. Met. 

Now it does appear to me that this reasoning is inconsistent with the phenomena 
above noticed. 



WITH THE HAND. 



131 



of the axis of the eye, before we can alter its direction to fix it upon 
a new object? 

It surprises me to find ingenuous men refusing their assent to the 
opinion, that the operation of the muscles of the eye is necessary to 
perfect vision, when the gradual acquisition of the power may be 
seen in observing the awakening sense in the infant. When a 
bright, object is withdrawn from the infant's eye, there is a blank 
expression in the features ; and an excitement when the object is 
again presented. For a time, the shifting of the object is not at- 
tended with the searching action of the eye : but by and by, the 
eye follows it and looks around for it, when it is lost. In this gra- 
dual acquisition of power in the eye, there is an exact parallel to 
the acquisition of motion in the hand; and in both instances, we seek 
to join the experience obtained by means of the muscular motion 
with the impression on the proper nerve of sense. 

Some maintain that our idea of the position of an object is im- 
planted in the mind and independent of experience. We must ac- 
knowledge the possibility of this, had it been so provided. We see 
the young of some creatures with their vision thus perfect at the 
moment of their birth. But in these animals, every corresponding 
faculty is, in the same manner, perfect from the beginning: the 
dropped foal, or the lamb, rises and follows its mother. We must 
no more compare the helpless human offspring with the young of 
these animals than with a fly, the existence of which is limited to an 
hour at noon, — which breaking from its confinement, knows its 
mate and deposites its egs^s on the appropriate tree — the willow or 
the thorn, and dies. But this is foreign to our inquiry; since it is 
obvious that the human eye has no such original power of vision 
bestowed upon it, and that it is acquired, as the exercise of the other 
senses, and the faculties of the mind itself are by repeated efforts, 
or experience. 

If it be admitted that the ideas which we receive through the 
eye come by experience, we must allow that the mind must be 
exercised in the act of comparison, before we can have a con- 
ception of anything being exterior to the eye, or of an object 
being placed in a particular direction. Authors make the matter 
complex by conceiving a picture to be drawn at the bottom of the 
eye, and presenting to us the mind contemplating this inverted 
picture, and comparing the parts of it. But this leaves the sub- 
ject without any explanation at all, and does not show how it is 
that the mind looks into this camera. The question will be, at least, 
more simple, if we consider the vision of a point; and ask our- 
selves how we know the direction in which that point comes to 
the eye. Suppose it is a star in the heavens, or a beacon, seen 
by the mariner; must he not, in order to ascertain the position of the 
star, find out some other object of comparison, some other star, 
which shall disclose to him the constellation to which the one that 



132 



COMPARISON OF THE EYE 



he is examining belongs : or to ascertain the position of the beacon, 
must he not look to his compass and card, and so trace the direction 
of the lighthouse in relation to them ? This is, in fact, the pro- 
cess that is followed in everything which we see. A single point is 
directly in the axis of the eye, but we cannot judge of its position, 
without turning to some other point, and feeling sensible of the 
traversing of the eye-ball and the angle to which the eye is 
moved : or if we do not see another point to compare the first 
with, we must judge of its place by means of a comparison with 
the motion of the eve itself. We are sensible that the eye is di- 
rected to ihe right or to the left; and we compare the visible im- 
pression on the nerve with the motion, its direction, and its extent. 

We find even mathematicians affirming that we judge of the 
direction of an object by the ray that falls upon the retina. 
But the ray which is here spoken of strikes a mere point of the 
retina: this point can have no direction; the obliquity of the inci- 
dence of the ray can inform us of nothing*, rays of all degrees of 
obliquity are converging to form that point. And do not the same 
mathematicians give us, in the first lessons of their science, as the 
definition of a line, that which is drawn through two points at 
the least? Where are the two points here to indicate the direction 
of the line, — since the cornea, or the humours of the eye,* are not 
sensible to the passage of the ray ? Or is this an error which has 
crept in from inaccurate conceptions of the anatomy ? Has the 
idea that the direction of the ray can afford this knowledge, arisen 
from the notion that the ray passes through the thick and turbid 
matter of the retina ? I would ask for what reason is the " finder" 
attached to the great telescope 1 is it not because the larger instru- 
ment from magnifying one object in a high degree, cannot be di- 
rected in the heavens, the observer seeing nothing but that one ob- 
ject I Accordingly to remedy this, there is mounted on the greater 
telescope a smaller one, exactly parallel, of lesser power, but 
commanding a greater field : this finder, the astronomer directs to 
the constellation and moves from star to star, until that which he 
desires to examine is in the centre of the field: and by this means 
he adjusts the larger telescope to his object. Is this not a correct 
illustration of the operation of the eye? is the eye not imperfectly 
exercised when it sees but one point — on the other hand, is it not in 
the full performance of its function when it moves from one ob- 
ject to the other, judges of the degree and the direction of that 
motion, and thus enables us, by comparison, to form our judg- 
ment ? 

It has been stated by a most ingenious philosopher of our own 
time, that the forms and relations of objects are known to us by 

* See a paper by Mr. Alexander Shaw, who has explained this subject very 
happily. — Journal of the Royal Institution, 1832. 



WITH THE HAND. 



133 



the unassisted operation of the eye-ball itself— by the transmission 
of the rays through the humours of the eye, and by their effect upon 
the retina ; and he has also affirmed that we should know the posi- 
tion of objects even if the muscles of the eye were paralytic. But 
I hope that it has been understood, when I give so much importance 
to the motions of the eye, that I do not neglect the movements of the 
body, and, more especially, the motions of the hand: that, in truth, 
the measure of objects which we take through the eye, is in corre- 
spondence with the experience which we have had through the 
motions of the whole frame, and that, without such experience, 
we should have no knowledge of matter, or of position, or of dis- 
tance, or of form. Were the eye fixed in the head, or para- 
lytic, we should lose a great part of the exercise of the organ, as 
well as all the appliances which are necessary for its protection : 
but we should still be capable of comparing the visual impression 
with the experience of the body. As long as we know the right 
hand from the left, or must raise our head to see what is above 
us, or stoop to see a man's foot, there can be no want of materials 
to form a comparison between the impression on the nerve of sight 
and the experience of the body. 

Against this view of the compound operation of the eye, the 
matter is thus argued : — if a man receive the impression of a 
luminous body upon his eye so that the spectrum shall remain when 
the eye-lids are shut, and if he be seated upon a stool that turns 
round, and he be whirled round by the hand of a friend, without 
his own effort, the motion of the spectrum will correspond with his 
own. No doubt it will: because he is conscious of being turned 
round ; a man cannot sit upon a stool that is turning without an 
effort to keep his place, without a consciousness of being turned 
round ; and feeling, at the same time, that the impression is still be- 
fore his eye, he will see the spectrum before him, and in that aspect 
to which he has been revolved. 

Were I not conscious that I am right, I should feel it necessary 
to make an apology for differing from eminent men on this matter : 
but I conceive the explanation of this discrepancy to be, that we are 
very much influenced by the manner in which we approach to the 
examination of such a subject. A man lost in admiration of the 
properties of light, and of the effect of the humours of the eye as an 
optical instrument, may be blinded to those inferences, which to me 
seem so undeniable, accustomed as I have been to compare the 
properties of the eye with the living endowments of the frame. 
When instead of looking upon the eye as a mere camera or show- 
box, with the picture inverted on the bottom, we determine the 
value of muscular activity; mark the sensation attending the 
balancing of the body; that fine property which we possess oi 
adjusting the muscular frame to its various inclinations; how it 
is acquired in the child ; how it is lost in the paralytic and drunk- 
ard ; how motion and sensation are combined in the hand ; how, 



134 



COMPARISON OF THE EYE 



in this way, the hand guides the finest instruments : when we con- 
sider how the eye and the hand correspond ; how the motions of 
the eye, combining with the impression on the retina, become the 
means of measuring and estimating the place, form and distance of 
objects — the sign in the eye of what is known to the hand: finally, 
when, by attention to the motions of the eye, we are aware of 
their extreme minuteness, and how we are sensible to them in the 
finest degree — the conviction irresistibly follows, that without the 
power of directing the eye, (a motion holding a relation to the 
action of the whole body) our finest organ of sense, which so largely 
contributes to the developement of the powers of the mind, would 
lie unexercised. 

THE MOTION OF THE EYE CONSIDERED IN REGARD TO THE EFFECT OF 
SHADE AND COLOUR IN A PICTURE. 

A question naturally arises whether it be possible, from this part 
of philosophy, to suggest some principles for the amateur and 
painter. The ideas and language of the amateur, when he at- 
tempts to establish rules for the disposition of colours or shades in a 
picture are certainly very vague. 

We have to remark, in the first place, that the colours of nature, 
and those of objects when represented in a painting, differ in most 
essential circumstances. Bodies of various colours, when placed 
together, have their colours reflected from the one to the other; 
and so they are sent to the eye. This is one mode in which the 
hues of nature are harmonized ; but the colours upon the flat sur- 
face of the canvass cannot be thus reflected and mingled. The next 
difference results from the atmosphere, through which the rays from 
distant objects proceed to the eye and are softened ; the canvass 
being near the eye, the effect which the atmosphere produces on 
colours amounts to nothing in the picture. The third mode in which 
colours are effected, is common to natural objects and to paintings, 
and is connected with the law of vision which we have been con- 
sidering, and to which we must now revert. 

When we make experiments by looking upon coloured spots, 
the effect on the sensibility of the retina is remarkable; and as this 
does not occur incidentally, but takes place, more or less, whenever 
we exercise the eye, it must have its influence when we look to 
works of art The familiar fact which we have to carry with us 
into this inquiry, is, that if we throw a silver coin upon a dark table, 
and fix the eye upon the centre of it, when we remove the coin there 
is, for a moment, a wmite spot in its place, which presently becomes 
deep black. If we put a red wafer upon a sheet of paper, and 
look upon it, and continue to keep the eye fixed on the same point, 
upon removing the wafer, the spot where it lay on the white paper 
will appear green. If we look upon a green wafer in the same 



WITH THE HAND. 



135 



manner and remove it, the spot will be red; if upon blue or indigo, 
the paper will appear yellow. These phenomena are to be ex- 
plained by considering that the nerve is exhausted by the continuance 
of the impression, and becomes more apt to receive sensation from 
an opposite colour. All the colours of the prism come into the eye 
from the surface of the paper when the wafer has been removed ; 
but if the nerve has been exhausted by the incidence of the red rays 
upon it, it will be insensible to these red rays when they are thus re- 
flected from the paper ; the effect of the rays of an opposite kind 
will be increased, and consequently the spot will be no longer 
white, but of the prevailing green colour. 

Let us see how the loss of sensibility produces an effect in en- 
graving, where there is no colour, and only light and shade. 

Is it possible that a high tower in a cloudless sky, can be less 
illuminated at the top than at the bottom? Yet if we turn to a 
book of engravings, where an old steeple or tower is represented 
standing up against the clear sky, we shall find that all the higher 
part is dark, and that the effect is picturesque and pleasing. Now 
this is perfectly correct, for although the highest part of the tower be 
in the brightest illumination, it is not seen so — it never appears so to 
the eye. The reason is, that when we look to the steeple, a great 
part of the retina is opposed to the light of the sky ; and on shifting 
the eye to look at the particular parts of the steeple, the reflected 
light from that object falls upon the retina, where it is exhausted by 
the direct light of the sky. If we look to the top of the tower, 
and then drop the eye to some of the lower architectural orna- 
ments, the effect infallibly is that the upper half of the tower is 




dark. For example, if looking to the point A we drop the eye 
to B : the tower from A to B is seen by that part of the retina which 



136 



COMPARISON OF THE EYE 



was opposed to the clear sky from A to C ; and it is dark not by 
contrast, as it would be thoughtlessly said, but by the nerve being 
somewhat exhausted of its sensibility. This, then, is the first effect 
we shall remark as arising from the searching motion of the eye. 

The refreshing colours of the natural landscape are at no time so 
pleasing as when reading on a journey, we turn the eye from the book 
to the fields and woods ; the shadows are then deeper — the greens 
more soothing, and the whole colours are softened. Reynolds observed 
to Sir George Beaumont that the pictures of Rubens appeared dif- 
ferent to him, and less brilliant, on his second visit to the continent ; 
and the reason of the difference he discovered to be that, on the first 
visit, he had taken notes, and on the second he did not. The alleged 
reason is quite equal to the effect; but I cannot help imagining that 
there is some incorrectness in the use of the term brilliant, unless 
warmth and depth of colouring is meant, for when the eye turns 
from the white paper to the painting, the reds and yellows must 
necessarily be deeper. If we look out from the window, and then 
turn towards a picture, the whole effect is gone — the reflected rays 
from the picture are too feeble to produce their impression; and if 
we look upon a sheet of paper, and then upon a picture, the tone will 
be deeper, and the warm tints stronger, but the lights and shades less 
distinct. If we place an oil painting without the frame, upon a large 
sheet of paper, or against a white plastered wall, it is offensively yel- 
low. Here the eye alternately, though insensibly, moving from the 
white paper or wall to the painting, which is of a deep tone, the 
browns and yellows are unnaturally strong. We see the necessity 
or the effect of the gilt frame for such a picture: it does not merely 
cut off surrounding objects, hut it prepares the eye for the colours of 
the painting — it allows, if I may so express it, the painter to use his 
art more boldly, and to exaggerate the colours of nature. 

Painters proceed by experiment. If they are painting a portrait, 
they may represent the features by contrasts of lights and shadows 
with very little colour ; but such a portrait is never popular. If they 
are to represent the features without much contrast of light and 
shade, they must raise the features by contrasts of colours, and the 
carnations are necessarily exaggerated ; but all this is softened down 
by throwing a piece of drapery into the picture, the colours of which 
so prepare the eye that, now looking on the features, that will ap- 
pear natural, w T hich, but for this art, w r ould have represented an in- 
flamed countenance. The common resource of the painter is to 
throw in a crimson curtain, or to introduce some flower or piece of 
dress, that shall lead the eye, by a succession of tints, or, more accu- 
rately speaking, shall prepare the eye to receive the otherwise exag- 
gerated colours of the portrait. The eye cast on the red curtain, 
and then falling on the countenance, sees it as if coloured only with 
the modesty of nature. 

Those who hang pictures, do not place an historical picture, painted 



WITH THE HAND. 



137 



after the manner of the Bolognese school with distinct and abrupt 
coloured draperies, by the side of a landscape ; for the colours of a 
landscape, to be at all consonant with nature, are weak and reduced 
to a low tone, by representing that effect, which we observed, of the 
intervention of the atmosphere. The colours, therefore, would be 
destroyed by too powerful a contrast. There is a difficulty of de- 
ciding what should be the colour of the walls of a gallery, because 
the pictures are, for the most part, painted on different principles ; 
but generally speaking, the dark subdued red or morone colour 
brings out the colours of paintings ; in other words, if we look on a 
wall of this colour, and then turn to the picture, the prevailing green 
and yellow tints will appear brighter. 

The" contrast" is used without a definition, or without the actual 
comprehension of what it means. Now the effect of colours, on be- 
ing placed together, is produced through the motion of the eye, com- 
bined with this law of the sensibility of the retina, which we have 
been adverting to. When we imagine that we are comparing co- 
lours, we are really experiencing the effect of the nerve being ex- 
hausted, by dwelling on one colour, and made more susceptible of 
the opposite colour. In coloured drapery, for example, there is such 
a mixture of all colours reflected from it, although one prevails, that 
the impression may be greatly modified by what the eye has pre- 
viously experienced. If the colouring of the flesh be, as the painter 
terms it, " too warm," it may be made "cold" by rendering the eye 
insensible to the red and yellow rays, and more than usually suscep- 
tible of the blue and purple rays. Every coloured ray from the flesh 
is transmitted to the eye ; but if the eye has moved to it from a yel- 
low or crimson drapery, then the rays of that kind will be, for the 
moment, lost to the vision, and the colour of the flesh will appear less 
warm, in consequence of the prevalence of the opposite rays of 
colour. 

It ought to be unsatisfactory to the philosophical student to make use 
of a term without knowing its full meaning. There has been a great 
deal said about contrast and harmony in painting, as resulting irom 
certain colours placed together — the idea being that we see these 
colours at the same time — whereas, the effect, of which we are all 
sensible, results from alternately looking at the one and at the other. 
The subject might be pleasantly pursued, but I mean only to vindi- 
cate the importance of the motions of the eye to our enjoyment, 
whether of the colours of art or of nature. There is another sub- 
ject of some interest, namely, the effect produced upon the retina 
when the eye is intently fixed upon an object, and is not permitted 
to wander from point "to point. This touches the chiaroscuro of 
painting; which is not merely the managing of the lights and sha- 
dows, but the preserving of the parts of a scene subordinate to the 
principal object. There is something unpleasant and imperfect, even 
to the least experienced eye, in a picture in which every thing is 

13 



138 



COMPARISON OF THE EYE WITH THE HAND. 



made out — the drapery of every figure, the carving or ornament of 
every object minutely represented ; for these things were never so 
seen in nature. The true picture, on the other hand, is effective, 
and felt to be natural, when the eye is at once led to dwell on that 
principal group, or principal figure, with which it is the artist's in- 
tention to occupy the imagination. By fine mastery of his art, and 
by insensible degrees, the painter keeps down the parts which are 
removed from the centre; and thus he represents the scene as when 
we look intently upon an object — seeing that which is near the axis 
of the eye distinctly — the other objects, as it were, retreating or rising 
out less and less distinctly, in proportion as they recede from the centre. 
In the one instance, the artist paints a panorama, where we turn round 
and have presented before the eye the several divisions of the circle, 
in each of which the objects are equally distinct; in the other, he 
paints a picture representing things, not as when the eye wanders 
from the one part to the other, but where it is fixed with higher 
interest upon some central object, while the others fall off subordi- 
nately. 

Looking to our main argument, the proofs of beneficence in the 
capacities of the living frame, we revert naturally to the pleasures 
received through this double property of the eye — motion and sensi- 
bility; and whilst we perceive that the varieties of light and shade 
are necessary to vision, we find that the coloured rays are also, by 
variety, suited to the higher exercise of this sense. They do not all 
equally illuminate objects, nor are they all equally agreeable to the 
eye. The yellow, pale green, or Isabella colours, illuminate in the 
highest degree, and are the most agreeable to the sense; and we 
cannot but observe, on looking out on the face of nature, that they 
are the prevailing colours.* The red ray illuminates the least, but 
it irritates the most ; and it is this variety in the influence of these 
rays upon the nerve that continues its exercise, and adds so much to 
our enjoyment. We have pleasure from the succession and con- 
trast of colours, independently of that higher gratification which the 
mind enjoys through the influence of association. 

* The astronomer selects a glass for his telescope, which refracts the pale yellow 
light in the greatest proportion, because it illuminates in the highest degree and 
irritates the least. 



ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 



139 



ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS TO THE CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 

I have sometimes thought it possible, that a greatly extended sur- 
vey of nature may humble too much our conceptions of ourselves ; 
and that this requires to be corrected by the study of things more 
minute, and in which we are more directly concerned : by dwelling 
on the perfection of the frame of the animal body and the marvellous 
endowments of the living properties. When we* have formed some 
estimate of the immensity of the heavenly bodies, we are struck with 
admiration in following the successive advancement made in the 
science: — an improvement in the curves of the glasses of the tele- 
scope, a new mode of polishing the reflecting surfaces, a change in 
the chemical composition of the glasses, a more perfect adjustment 
of their dispersive powers — is followed by the discovery of circle 
beyond circle of worlds interminably. 

We fan the imagination and labour to comprehend the immensity 
of the creation, and fall back with the impression of the littleness of 
all that belongs to us : our lives seem but a point of time, compared 
with the astronomical and geological periods, and we ourselves as 
atoms, driven about, amidst unceasing changes of the materia! world. 

But it has been shown, that whether we take the animal body as 
a single machine, or embrace in the survey the successive creation 
of animals, conforming always to the improving condition of the 
earth, there is nothing like chance or irregularity in the composition 
of the system. In proportion indeed as we comprehend the princi- 
ples of mechanics, or of hydraulics, as applicable to the animal ma- 
chinery, we shall be satisfied of the perfection of the design : and if 
anything appear disjointed or thrown in by chance, let the student 
mark that for contemplation and experiment, and most certainly 
when it comes to be understood, other parts will receive the illumina- 
tion, and the whole design stand more fully disclosed. 

The extension of knowledge has not necessarily the effect of 
raising the mind to more consolatory contemplations. We may 
quote the ancient philosopher in contrast with the modern. The 
former having nothing in his mind to draw him from observing the 
just relations of human beings to the world; but on the contrary, 
seeing everything suited to man or subordinate, thinks of him " as 
a little God'harboured in a humane body." But when by science, 
and the aid of instruments, or "the ingenuity of the hand," vision 
is extended to things too remote perhaps, or too minute, to fall 
within our natural sphere; when instead of the extended plane, and 
visible horizon of the stable earth, it is thought of as a ball rolling 
through space, amidst myriads besides, greater than it : the expres- 
sion is excusable that — " the earth with man upon it does not seem 
much other than an ant-hill, where some ants carry corn, and some 
carry their young, and some go empty, and all to and fro, a little 
heap of dust." 



140 



ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 



We may consider man, before the lights of modern philosophy 
had their influence on his thoughts, as in a state more natural ; in as 
much as he yielded unresistingly to those sentiments which directly 
flow from the objects and phenomena around him. But when that 
period of society arrived, in which man made natural phenomena 
the subjects of experiment or of philosophical inquiry, then was 
there some danger of a change of opinion, not always beneficial to 
his state of mind. This danger does not touch the philosopher so 
much as the scholar. He who has strength of mind and ingenuity 
enough to make investigations into nature, will not be satisfied with 
the discovery of secondary causes — his mind will be enlarged, and the 
subjects of his thoughts and aspirations become more elevated. But it 
is otherwise with those not themselves habituated to investigation, and 
who learn at second-hand, the result of those inquiries. If such a 
one sees the fire of heaven brought down into a phial, and the ma- 
terials compounded, to produce an explosion louder than the thun- 
der, and ten times more destructive, the storm will no longer speak 
a language to him. Those influences which are natural and just, 
and beneficently provided, and have served to develope the senti- 
ments of millions before him, are dismissed as things vulgar and to 
be despised. — Yet with all the pride of newly acquired knowledge, 
his conceptions embarrass, if they do not mislead him ; in short, he 
has not had that intellectual discipline, which should precede and 
accompany the acquisition of knowledge. 

But a man, possessed of genius of the highest order, may lose 
the just estimate of himself, from another cause. The sublime na- 
ture of his studies may consign him to depressing thoughts. He 
may forget the very attributes of his mind, which have privileged 
these high contemplations, and the ingenuity of the hand, which has 
so extended the sphere of his observation. 

The remedy, to such a mind, is in the studies which we are en- 
forcing. The heavenly bodies, in their motions through space, are 
held in their orbits by the continuance of a power, not more won- 
derful nor more deserving of admiration, than that, by which a 
globule of blood is suspended in the mass of fluids: — or by which, 
in due season, it is attracted and resolved: than that, by which a 
molecule entering into the composition of the body, is driven 
through a circle of revolutions, and made to undergo different states of 
aggregation ; becoming sometime, a part of a fluid, sometime, an 
ingredient of a solid : — and finally cast out again, from the influence 
of the living forces. 

Our argument in the early part of the volume, has shown man, 
by the power of the hand (as the ready instrument of the mind) ac- 
commodated to every condition through w r hich his destinies promise 
to be accomplished. We first see the hand ministering to his ne- 
cessities, and sustaining the life of the individual : — a second stage 
of his progress, we see it adapted to the wants of society, when 



TO THE CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 



141 



man becomes a labourer and an artificer. In a state still more ad- 
vanced, science is brought in aid of mechanical ingenuity. The 
elements which seemed adverse to the progress of society, become 
the means conducing to it. The seas which at first set limits to na- 
tions, and grouped mankind into families, are now the means by 
which they are associated. Philosophical chemistry has subjected 
the elements to man's use ; and all tend to the final accomplishment 
of the great objects to which everything, from the beginning, has 
pointed ; the multiplication and distribution of mankind, and the en- 
largement of the sources of his confort and enjoyment — the relief 
from too incessant toil, and the consequent improvement of the 
higher faculties of his nature. Instinct has directed animals, until 
they are spread to the utmost verge of their destined places of 
abode. Man too is borne onwards; and although, on consulting 
his reason, much is dark and doubtful, yet does his genius operate 
to fulfil the same design, enlarging the sphere of life and enjoyment. 

Whilst we have before us the course of human advancement, as 
in a map, we are recalled to a narrower, and yet a more important 
consideration : for what to us avail all these proofs of divine power 
— of harmony in nature — of design — the predestined accommoda- 
tion of the earth, and the creation of man's frame and faculties, if 
we are stopped here ? If we perceive no more direct relation be- 
tween the individual and the Creator? But we are not so precluded 
from advancement : on the contrary, reasons accumulate at every 
step, for a higher estimate of the living soul, and give us assurance 
that its condition is the final object and end of all this machinery, and 
of these successive revolutions. 

To this, must be referred the weakness of the frame, and its lia- 
bility to injury, the helplessness of infancy, the infirmities of age, the 
pains, diseases, distresses, and afflictions of life — for by such means 
is man to be disciplined— his faculties and virtues unfolded, and his 
affections drawn to a spiritual Protector. 



13* 



THE 



CLASSIFICATION OF ANIMALS, 

IN 

EXPLANATION OF THE TERMS INCIDENTALLY USED IN THE VOLUME. 



The Animal Kingdom is arranged in four Divisions : 

Division I. Vertebral Animals : so called from their possessing a vertebral co- 
lumn or spine. 

Division II. Molluscous Animals : such as shell-fish, which are of a soft struc- 
ture, and without a skeleton. Etym. mollis, soft. 

Division III. Articulated Animals : like the worm or insect : they are without a 
skeleton, but their skins or coverings are divided and jointed. Etym. Articulus, dim. 
a joint. 

Division IV. Zoophytes : animals believed to be composed very nearly of a ho- 
mogeneous pulp, which is moveable and sensible, and resembles the form of a plant. 
Etym. £a>ov, zoon, a living creature ; <pu<T-ov, phyton a plant. 

DIVISION I. 

The division of vertebral animals is composed of four Classes : viz., 1. Mammalia, 
animals which suckle their young. Etym. mamma, a teat. 2. Avcs. Etym. a\ is, a bird. 
3. Reptilia, animals that crawl. Etym. from a part of the word repo, to creep. 4. Pis- 
ces. Etym. piscis, a fish. 



144 



APPENDIX. 



The first Class Mammalia, is divided into Orders, which are subdivided into Genera, 
and these are further divided into Species. 
We present the principal Orders with familiar examples. 

Bimana, man. Etym. bis, double ; manus, hand. 

Quadrumana. Etym. quatuor, four ; manus, hand. Monkeys, makis or lemurs 
(Etym. lemures, ghosts.) The loris tardigradus (tardus, slow ; gradior, to walk) 
is a species of lemur. 

Cheiroptera Etym. %sfp, cheir, the hand ; 7rrepov, pteron, a wing. The Bats. 

Insectivorn. Etym. insecta, insects ; voro, to eat. Hcdgc-hog ; shrew; mole. 

Plantigrade. Etym. planta, the sole of the foot; gradior, to watk. Bear; racoon. 

Digitigradc. Etym. digitus, the toe, or finger; gradior, to walk. Lion; wolf; 
dog ; weasel. 

Amphibia. Etym. * ( u<p/, amphi, both; 0to(, bios, life. Walrus ; seal. 

Marsupialia. Etym. marsupium, a pouch. Kangaroo ; opossum. 

Rodcntia. Etym. rodo, to gnaw. Squirrel ; beaver ; rat ; hare. 

Edentata. Etym. edentulus, toothless: animals without the front teeth. Ai ; 

unau; armadillo; ant-eater; tamandua; megatherium (juiy&, mega, great; 

d'ff/or, therion, a wild beast;) megalonyx (/uiyac, megas, great ; ow%, onyx, a 

claw;) ornithorhynchus (opvtBoc ; ornithos, of a bird; puv%oc, rhynclios, a beak.) 
Pachydermata. Etym. va^vc, pac/iys, thick ; Sif/uet, derma, skin. Rhinoceros, 

elephant; mammoth: mastodon (/uucros 77iastos, a nipple; cSwv, odon, a tooth;) 

tapir ; horse ; couagga. 
Ruminantia. Etym. ruminatio, chewing the cud. Camel; giraffe; deer; goat; 

cow ; sheep. 

Cetacea. Etym. cctus, a whale. Dolphin; whale; dugong. 



Second Class. Aves, or Birds. 

Accipitrcs. Etym. accipitcr, hawk. Vulture; eagle; owl. 
Passeres. Etym. passer, a sparrow. Lark; thrush; swallow; crow; wren. 
Scansores. Etym. scando, to climb. Parrot; wood-pecker; toucan. 
Gallinm. Etym. gallina, a hen. Peacock; pheasant; pigeon. 
Grallre. Etym. grail®, stilts. Ostrich ; stork ; ibis ; flamingo. 
Palmipedes. Etym. palma, the palm of the hand ; pes, foot. Swan ; pelican ; 
gull. 



Third Class. Reptiles. 

Chelonia. Etym. x iKv ^ chelys, a tortoise. Tortoise ; turtle. 
Sauria. Etym. o-aupu, saura, a lizard. Crocodile ; alligator, chameleon ; dragon ; 
pterdoctyle (tts/jov, pteron, a wing; Suktvkvs, dactylus, a finger;) ichthyosau- 



APPENDIX. 1 |g 

rus (i£8t/c, ichthys, a fish; r&vpct, saura, a lizard;) plesiosaurus (jtawiof, 
aion, near to; eroi//.^ saura, a reptile;) megalasaurus me^/f, great; 

»-a«//>*, saara, a reptile ;) iguanadon. 
Ophidia. Etym. <p/c, o/>fas, a serpent. Boa ; viper. 

Batrachia. Etym. /2*T Wf , batrachos, a frog. Frog ; salamander ; proteus. 



Fourth Class. Fishes. 

Chondropterygii. Etym. zovJpoc, chondros, gristle ; pleryx, the ray of a 

fin. Ray; sturgeon; shark; lamprey; ammocete (a/u/u. o?, ammos, sand; *»t; 5 -, 
cetes, a fish.) 

Pieetognathi. Etym. ttmko, pleco, to join; yvxlcg, gnatlws, the jaw. Sun-fish ; 
trunk-fish. 

Lophobranchi. Etym. \o<?os, lopkos, a loop ; 0p*.y%i*. t Iranchia, the gills. Pipe- 
fish; pegasus. 

Melacopterygii. Etym. /wxxxxic, malakos, soft; Trnpvt pteryx, the ray of a fin. 
Salmon ; trout ; cod ; herring ; remora. 

Acanthopterygii. Etym. iLKctvba., acantha, a thorn ; vrtpv^ pteryx, the ray of a 
fin. Perch; sword-fish; mackarel; lophius piscatorius (\oqiu., lophia, a pen- 
nant; piscator, a fisher;) chaetodon rostratus (_£*<ts, chcete hair; c<fav, odon, a 
tooth ; rostratus, beaked ;) zeus ciliaris (cilium, an eye-lash.) 



DIVISION II. 

MOLLUSCOUS ANIMALS. 

1st. Class. Cephalopoda. Etym. Kiquxe, cephale, the head ; 7rcS>x, poda, the feet 
Animals which have their organs of motion arranged round their head. 

This class includes Sepia, or Cuttle-fish. Argonauts (Apyu, the ship Argo, vauthc, 
nautes, a sailor.) Nautilus, (vstwrwc, nautes, a sailor.) Ammonite, an extinct 
Cephalopode which inhabited a shell resembling that of the Nautilus; coiled 
like the horns of a ram or of the statues of Jupiter Ammon ; whence the Dame. 
Belemnites : also extinct : the shell is long, straight, and conical (jZahapiov, i>e- 
lemnon, a dart.) Nummulites : likewise extinct. Whole chains of rocks arc 
formed of its shells. The pyramids of Egypt are built of these rocks, (nummus, 
a coin.) 

2d Class. Pteropoda. Etym. 7rnpov, pteron, a wing; mSx, poda, feet; having 
fins or processes resembling wings on each side of the mouth. 

The Clio Borealis, which abounds in the North Seas, and is the principal food of 
the whale . 

3d Class. Gasteropoda. Etym. ycttrrip, gaster, the stomach ; we<f*, poda, the feet. 
Animals which move by means of a fleshy apparatus placed under the belly. 
The snail ; slug ; limpet. 



146 



APP.ENDIX. 



4th Class. Acephala. Etym. a, a, without ; x.t<pu\i, cephale, the head. Molluscous 
animals without a head. 
The oyster ; muscle. 

5th Class. Brachiopoda. Etym. @px%iov, brachion^ the arm; ttoSa, poda, the feet. 
Animals which move by means of processes like arms. 

Lingula; terebratula. 
6th Class. Cirrhopoda. Elym. cirrus, a lock or tuft of hair; ttoSa, poda, the feet. 

Balanus ; barnacle anatifera, (anas, a duck, fero, to bring- forth.) 



DIVISION III. 

ARTICULATA. 

1st Class. Annclides, or Vermes. Etym. Annellus, a little ring; vermis, a worm. 
Leech ; sea-mouse ; earth-worm ; sand-worm ; tubfcolee, (tubus, a tube, colo, to in- 
habit ;) worms which cover themselves by means of a slimy secretion that ex- 
udes from their surfaces, with a case of small shells and pebbles, like the caddis- 
worm, or with sand and mud. 
2d Class. Crustacea. Animals which have a shelly crust, covering their bodies. 

The crabs; shrimps; lobsters. 
3d Class. Arachnida. Elym. a.p*%v»s, arachncs, a spider. 

Spiders ; aranea scenica, or saltica ; the leaping- spider ; the scorpion spider ; the 
mite. 

4th Class, Insecta. They are divided into insects which arc without wing's and 
those which have them : and these are further subdivided according- to the peculiarities 
of the wings. 

Aptera (a, a, without; 7rrepzv, pteron, a wing.) Centipede (having a hundred 
feet;) louse; flea. 

Coleoptera (Kohios, coleos a sheath or scabbard, mspov, a wing,) insects which have 
their wings protected by a cover, as the beetle, corn-weevil. Orthoptera (e/>9sc, 
orthos, straight, Tn-epcv,) as the locust, grass-hopper. Hemiptera (»/u.i<ru, hemisu, 
half, 7n(fic y,) insects which have one half of their wings thick and coriaceous, 
and the other membranous ; such as a bug, tick, fire-fly. Neuroptera (vivpov 
neuron, a nerve, mepcy,) dragon-fly ; ant-lion ; ephemera. Hymenoptera (vjutv, 
. hymen, a membrane, ttts/jsv,) the bee ; wasp; ant. Lepidoptera (kims, lepis, a 

scale, 7TTipov,) moth ; butter-fly. Rhipiptera (pints, ripis, a fan, 7rrtpov,) xenos ; 
stylops. Diplera (Sis, dis double, nrepov,) house-fly ; gnat. 



APPENDIX. 



117 



DIVISION IV. 

ZOOPHYTES. 

Echinodermata (Etym. (%ivos, echinos, a hedgehog ; Sipp*, derma, the skin,) the 
star-fish ; sea urchin. Entoza (svto?, entos, within ; £xa> zao, to live,) tcenia 
hydatia. Acalephce (cota\«<p», acalephe, a nettle,) medusa; polypi (containing 
much sap; sea-anemone; hydra; tubipora (inhabiting tubes;) sertularia; cel- 
lularia; flustra; coralline; sponge. Infusoria (found in infusions or stagnant 
water,) monas ; vibrio ; proteus. 



THE END. 




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